Brittle
by Caleigho Meer
Summary: Optimus Prime's last moments on Earth, and the aftermath. Currently a one-shot, might be expanded.
1. Chapter 1

"_Decepticons!!!!"_ Megatron's shrill bellow for help reverberated through the forest. The air was filled with the splintering of trees as Optimus wrenched a massive oak and hurled it at his brother. The ground beneath Sam's feet shuddered, as he was showered with the splinters and debris that kept falling around him.

Megatron's order was not ignored. Sam's gut clenched when he saw the two Decepticons suddenly dropped to the earth, trees buckling into shards from their wings. He heard the horrible sound of metal shifting to appendages, and could only watch, dumb-struck as one of them hissed out "Here, boy…"

It was so casual and cruel the way Starscream purred out the mocking invocation as he carelessly ripped the trees out of his way. Sam swallowed hard, felt the terror slither down to his guts and grow fire as it spread to his quaking legs. When Starscream fixed that baleful glare at him, he bolted like a rabbit through the undergrowth. He heard the thundering sound of pursuit; Starscream's stride easily outpacing his own as he twisted back into the thicker growth of trees in a blind panic. He heard the sickening clang of metal. Optimus roared as he hurled himself between them, wrapped an arm around Starscream, and flung him back to the dirt. Optimus did not stop, or even slow as he collided with his second attacker and sent him flying. Sam watched in horror as the two collided with Optimus again, and watched with disbelief at the ferocious ease that Optimus had broken at least one of them.

Megatron had taken refuge in the safe distance between him and his crumbling little armada. Sam shuddered when he heard the Decepticon's futile attempt at reason with the enraged Autobot.

"There is a source of energon hidden on this planet. The boy can lead us to it." Sam cowered behind the log, shuddering at the possibility that Optimus might see the merit of leaving him at the mercy of Megatron. Optimus did not even pause as he threw the battered body of Starscream into the trees.

Sam peeked out from the log, quivering in the agonized waiting. If Prime handed him over…..

There was nothing that he could do to scream out the warming. There was nothing he could do to stop the cowardly betrayal of Megatron's crushing blow to Optimus's face. The reverberation from the blow shuddered through the air, roared out with Sam's shriek of Optimus' name, and ended with the long, dredging groan of pain. Optimus took the brutal blow full force to the side of his face, his mouth guard shattering, his nose crushed and one optic wilting as he spun from the hit and nearly toppled. Sam watched as he lurched to his knees, hunched over from the sudden agony of the wounds, and rose under the onslaught. Megatron's soldiers cheerfully went about their laborious attempt to dismantle the sole Autobot, savage and brittle as hyenas bringing down the dying animal. Sam cringed when one of them fired a direct hit to Optimus' mid section. Optimus curled inward from the shot, but raised again, blades edged in flame and ready to kill.

There was no time. Optimus felt the icy burn of Megatron's missile as it sliced through his protective chest place and almost tore him asunder. He saw the bright flare of sparks dancing over his exposed neural sensors. He was tossed skyward, the numbing, floating sensation disorienting as he plummeted back to the ground. The force of the blow sent him tumbling into a dead roll as he finally halted. He only felt the blinding pain and tasted the dirt in his mandibles. He spat it out, as he heard Megatron's smug chuckle behind him, the shadow falling over him.

Sam gasped. His eyes were huge and stricken as he stared at Optimus, helpless and horrified and human. Optimus locked eyes with him.

_I will keep you safe, Sam. _

It was not a thought he could voice without giving Sam's location away. The boy sucked in a sudden breath, eyes darting upward as he scrambled back behind the log.

"Is our species not worth a single human life?" Megatron's tone was eerily reasonable as he casually lumbered over to the fallen Autobot. Optimus heard Sam's shrill pleading, stammered out in terror.

"Get up…Optimus…_Get up!" _ The panicked squeal resonated. Optimus slowly lurched to his feet, head bowed, and his trembling supports nearing collapse as he rose.

"You'll never stop at one." Sam shuddered at Optimus's feral snarl. Optimus suddenly whirled around, his blades arching and glowing in rage. His blades seemed to be bathed in the flames of hell as he summoned them.

"I'll take you _all _on!" It was a hideous promise, brutally fulfilled as Optimus hurled himself back into the tangled line of Decepticons and started hacking them to pieces with an almost pathological perfection. The wings of one were flung back to earth as the dismembered metal corpse was savagely torn apart. Sam could only watch the chaotic whirlwind of blue and red continue its destruction as Optimus thrust his blades into them, again, and again, and again. It happened so fast that Sam could not even find time to scream.

Optimus hooked his blades onto the facial sensors of one of them, and ripped it in half; left him gutted and didn't even pause to watch him fall. Enraged, he fell like a storm over the next one, slicing through his mid section, and tore him apart. The sound of metal fragmenting under metal, the bellows of rage, and the sickening brutality of Optimus as he continued the slaughter….Sam was numb, and mercifully detached from the horror of the whole thing.

"_Sam! _ Where are you?" The bodies had fallen, the onslaught abruptly halted as Optimus frantically pivoted, the agonized query ringing out over the sudden silence.

It was the distraction that Megatron had been gleefully waiting for. Optimus darted around, the anguish nearly breaking him when Sam did not appear or reply.

The attack from behind was so brutal, and unexpected that Optimus had no time to react. Megatron latched the parasitic grip over Optimus' shoulder, slammed himself into the Autobot and nearly turned Optimus to face him.

It was as sudden as it was brutal. Time, like the death blow, had severed his thoughts into vicious moments, blurred by the dying. Megatron's brittle chuckle fragmented like glass over his faltering awareness. The slide of metal against metal. Agony, searing agony. The stench of his energon and inner workings literally roasting as Megatron thrust the burning blade through his gut. Optimus saw the golden edge of it burst through his mid-section, jutting proudly as Megatron twisted it in savage glee.

Optimus recoiled backwards as the blade continued its arch skyward, felt his feet leaving the ground as Megatron impaled and lifted him upward. Optimus groped uselessly at the thing in his chest, clawing at it, trying and failing to free himself.

"You're so weak." It was a smug, languid purr.

"No….." Megatron smirked at Optimus' soft, agonized groan. It was little more than a choked breath, now.

Optimus felt the round barrel of Megatron's weapon trailing casually, and halting at the stab wound. He heard the last snatch of the chuckle as Megatron fired.

Optimus felt his guts being ripped out from the force of the blast, the inferno of sparks flying skyward and falling down, the sudden hiss of wind through the gaping hole. He heard the sharp, slow grind of metal against metal as Megatron drew the blade from his gut. Without the blade to pin him upright, Optimus finally plummeted.

Wounded, bleeding, and dying. Those were the actions of the sentient beings he swore to protect. Those were the things of the earth, the actions of the dying, and those who had flesh. And yet, when he finally realized that he was dying, it was far too late to ponder the fear that humans had of their own endings. There just wasn't time, now. The frantic, constricting sensations registering pain and multiple system failures pulsed down his neural pathways, the agony searing upward and through him, as his sensors twanged and his breath spilled through his vents.

He fell to the earth, felt it crumble beneath him as he was splayed out and defenseless from the onslaught of so many attacks. Somewhere inside, his automatic power system's squealed, and roared to life, and faltered as the energon leaked out from so many deep wounds. He felt the mechanisms inside grind against themselves as the precious elixir continued to dribble down, and the gears screamed against each other. It was agonizing.

Sam felt the ground beneath his feet ripple when the giant fell to the ground, slowly toppling after a valiant and failing fight to stay standing. Sam watched in horror as Optimus swayed in surrender, the hot energon raining down on the trees as the robot plummeted. Optimus slammed into the earth on his side, his crumbled face shield gone, and his exposed mouth hideously naked and scarred. The world blurred as his failing neural stabilizers continued to pump the last reserves of his energon to all his dying systems. The various alarms of catastrophic system wide damage were firing their warnings; the last of the energon was being aligned to his spark. The sensors along his limbs flared a last registration of his injuries and went offline.

Through the roar of torpor, and the last bit of light, Optimus saw Sam, his eyes huge with loss, and disbelief, not even bother to glance at the sky, or for an enemy.

"Optimus! Get up! Get UP!!!!" The shrill cry tore the air between them, as Optimus heaved out his last breath. Through the haze of the falling torpor, Optimus fought against the encroaching dark, the warning finally choked out. "Run, Sam…runs…"

Sam heard the dying whine of the failing mechanical system. Optimus' face spasmed in anguish, as Sam crumbled into shocked grief. Silently, Optimus wilted into death, his head falling into the dirt, as he was still and silent.


	2. Torpor

There was only the yawning abyss of silence between the mournful trio of humans, dwarfed and overwhelmed by the towering shadows of the Autobots. Sam was still trembling, too stunned and stricken to form any attempts at speaking. Michaela gave the wrecked corpse of Optimus a long look of disbelieving grief before she swept Sam up in a desperate embrace. Sam did not know how she had come to the scene so fast, and he did not care. She was the only tether that felt solid and _real_ after so much that had been beyond belief had already happened in such a short time.

Sam remembered heeding Optimus' last warning, bolting like a rabbit into the undergrowth. He heard the shrieking whine of the engines almost roaring down his spine, the hideous cackle of Megatron, the bellowing demand for his death. Ironhide had answered Megatron with his own thundering cannons. Bumblebee sped into the fray and whisked him away like a yellow and black angel of deliverance. The numbing shock had anesthetized him from the grief. Once that had worn off, he was only left with the gnawing guilt that he did not know how to handle.

Michaela had cradled his head in her arms, stroking his hair and murmuring soothing nonsense as he buried his face against hers, too stricken to weep. She only held him, in shared grief, love and anguish and obligation bleeding into an ache that was almost unbearable.

Bumblebee kept his radio off, and slowed to a dull, torpid lurch as he reluctantly plowed ahead to the hangar. Optimus' body was left where it had fallen, and grew from a mountain sized wreck to only a metal gleam in the distance.

The small band of NEST troops stood in a disbelieving cluster at the mountain of Optimus' corpse. Epps curled a lip at the stench of burnt fuel, and leaking energon, oozing out in grotesque dark pools from Optimus's wounds. Even the earth herself bore testimony to the battle that had taken place. Trees with trunks wide around as a man had been splintered and wrenched from the ground for a good half mile. There were deep gouges in the earth where the Autobot had been dragged through the muck. Lennox surveyed the sordid scene with a mournful shake of his head. Sighing, he walked over to Optimus's bowed head, and surveyed the damage done.

It was clear that the Autobot had not died peacefully, nor had he gone quietly. The deathblow was probably the gaping hole that had been blasted through the chest plates. Lennox was nearly sick when he craned his neck to see through the smoking circuits and saw burnt grass on the other side. Optimus had nearly been sliced in half from Megatron's weapon. Optimus's metal bore furrows and scars from the fight. He was splayed out, almost as if he had twisted in agony, his fingers still clinched in the death throes.

Lennox drew a deep, steadying breath, and forced himself to look at Optimus's brutalized face. It was clear that the Autobot had endured a crushing blow to one side. The facial plates that made up the structure of his nose and cheeks were twisted and caved in at an unnatural angle. One optic had been completely ruptured. The protective helm that Optimus wore to shield his jaw had been shattered, and his remaining "good" optic was dark and empty.

His face was contorted with unspeakable agony, the groping hand he had so desperately tried to shield Sam with still laying in its groping plea. Lennox shook his head with another heavy sigh that said what words could not.

His torpor was interrupted by the vibrating of the phone holstered in his belt. Inhaling, he flipped it open. Galloway's irritating voice sounded as brittle as wind over stone.

"I hear that the head robot has been offlined, Corporal." It was a terse demand for confirmation, as Lennox swallowed back rage and forced a calm answer. He did not bother to hide his venom.

"If by head robot, you mean _Optimus Prime_, the leader of the Autobots….." Lennox halted, his fingers twisting over the phone. "He died defending us, Galloway. Show him some damn respect."

Galloway gave a sigh of disgust as he snarled, "I don't care about what you label the aliens, Lennox. I've given the orders to have that scrap heap removed, and the choppers are on their way. I'm ordering you to stand down in the transport. I don't need any more headaches from these machines."

Galloway abruptly hung up, leaving Lennox shaking with rage and grief at the man's callous cruelty towards Optimus.

"What's the orders?" Lennox flinched at the sudden sound of Epp's voice. Epps was clearly troubled and seemed to regret asking such a question. Lennox gave Optimus's corpse a mournful shake of his head, as he raised his face to the sky.

"Galloway, being the prick he is, has already arranged for Optimus' body to be removed. The choppers are on their way." It was a snarl.

Epps gave a long whistle, as he tilted his head towards the massive corpse. "That ain't right._ He_" Epps jabbed a finger at Optimus in emphasis, "deserves better than this. They all do."

Lennox did not answer for a long moment, before he bitterly curled a lip at the distant thwak of the gliding helicopters. Wearily, he turned to Epps. "I'll be back. The Autobots need to know what they're going to do to Prime."

Epps chuckled, sadly. "Hopefully, they do somethin' to Galloway. That man deserves a taste of their firepower."

Lennox muttered darkly as he dialed his cell phone, "Don't give me any ideas, Epps."

The Autobots had followed their leader's last order admirably. Bumblebee had spirited Sam away, not halting in his mad dash until there was enough distance between them and the horror that had happened. With a sinking heart, the Autobot knew that there was no distance he could drive to span what had happened. Sam had been silent, still stunned and disbelieving all the way back to the Hangar,his hand helplessly weaving over Bumblebee's interior in anguish.

Ironhide, black and huge against the oncoming night, had brought up the mournful parade, not halting until they were all safely in the shelter of the Autobot headquarters. Sam had been quickly assessed by a discrete scan. Aside from his erratic breathing, triggered by emotional stress, Sam had emerged physically unscathed. He was sweaty and cut, and shaking, but Ironhide had no answers as to how to answer the guilt.

Bumblebee wheeled around Sam like a protective lap dog, as if to shield him from the heavy stare of Optimus's comrads. The silence was overwhelming, and the tension was almost electric when Sam met Ironhide's searing stare, clearly demanding an answer.

"The last transmission from Optimus was an order to get you to safety. When we finally arrived, Optimus was dead, and the Decepticons fleeing like rats. Can you tell us what happened, Sam?"

Ironhide's tone was gentle as he waited for Sam's answer. Sam swallowed down the sudden boulder that seemed lodged in his throat, the words and the explanation suddenly choking.

"Optimus died because of me, alright?! He saved me from Megatron, and Megatron killed him. What else is there to tell?" Sam's voice trailed off into despair as he hitched his shoulders in helpless agitation.

Bumblebee chirped and bumped against him, in an attempt to comfort him. Sam stiffened and backed away.

"I don't deserve that, Bee. Optimus is dead because of me." There was another mournful chirp from Bumblebee, as Ironhide shook his head with a heavy, resigned sigh.

"Sam." It was gentle and patient. "Optimus died because Megatron killed him. You are not responsible for his death. He would not want you to blame yourself. *We* do not blame you."

Sam shuddered back the grief, unable to answer.

Lennox and Epps watched as the military choppers came gliding down like a flock of carrion birds. They lighted over the fallen Optimus. Men shouted orders as the long tethers were slung down, and pelting Optimus like strings of rain. One, by one, the helicopters hovered as they slowly landed. Lennox felt the backshot of wind smacking him in the face as the propellers slowly stopped their spins. Officers quickly scurried out of each of the 7 choppers, They threaded the tethers underneath the Autobot's twisted limbs, wove them like nooses over his torso. The anchors were quickly snapped into place, as Galloway triumphantly emerged from the gaudiest chopper, so smug and so cruel. He disdainfully shook his head as he eyed the massive Autobot.

"I want this scrap heap gone!" He bellowed out the order as the officers continued the grim task of securing Optimus's corpse in the network of tethers to be transported.

Lennox could barely hold back his shaking rage at the callousness of the situation. Epps carefully siddled up to his side, lay a placating hand over the trembling shoulder. "He ain't worth it, man. "

The quiet words seemed to penetrate the rage as Lennox sucked in a long, steadying breath. Epps said nothing more, but lingered at his side to prevent him from doing anything rash.

Galloway said nothing more, but only maintained that satisfied smirk as he stared down at Optimus's body. Satisfied, he spun on his heel and clambered aboard a chopper.

There was no eulogy spoken for Optimus Prime, except the languid creaking of his wounds as his battered shell was slowly hoisted into the air. His limbs dangled, his head lulled as the tethers nearly buckled under the strain. Lennox waited, tersely hoping that the Autobot would at least be spared the indignity of having his body flung back to the ground like trash.

Slowly, Optimus Prime's corpse became airborne, eerily floating into the azure haze of the sky. It made Lennox nearly sick with fury, as he shook his head and snarled out, his hand lingering longingly on his automatic.

"Optimus deserves better than this."

Epps clapped a mournful, steadying hand over his shoulder. "I know, buddy. I know."


	3. The Tomb Part One

Dark warmth, encompassing, and safe as a womb enveloped him. The timeless peace melted into his growing awareness with an unhurried gentleness. Sensation, and senses slowly trickled back like water. The first recognizable thing was touch. His neural sensors, by some miracle, were still functioning enough to register the lack of agony. Had they been severed in the battle? Had Megatron so damaged his processing systems that they could no longer function at all? There was no acrid smoke, no bitter tinge of energon, nothing to signify any trace of the wounds. The only explanation for that was that he was so close to death that he was beyond coping with the catastrophic damage. There must have been nothing left of Optimus Prime to save now. Of that, Optimus was despairingly sure.

And _yet….._Optimus cautiously shuttered his optic shields, and then allowed them to open warily. Sepia hues of gold shifted into shadows, and refracted back. Optimus shut his optics again, shaking his head to cope with the dizzying sensation of sight in this place….wherever he was now. The silence around him was as vast and empty as a tomb. His sensors detected no trace of sentient life, or energy from any life at all, but yet….

He could sense the presence of some unidentifiable force from the center of his core processor, to the edges of what limited comprehension he was now gaining. Resolutely, Optimus opened his optics, and warily scanned his surroundings again. He found himself laying on a vast expanse of time worn stone, smooth as glass and dark as obsidian. There was no dust, nothing to indicate that any human foot had trod here…indeed, from the perfection that the stones had been hewn together, it was not created by human hand at all.

Carefully, Optimus rose, scowling at the knowledge that the only other thing that he knew that could build at all was another member of his race. Energon traces slathered the entire area, so ancient now that they were barely detectable. Tapping the sensor control over his left optic, Optimus staggered backwards when the ultraviolet traces of energon coated everything in erratic splatters, pooled over the floor, chaotically spewed over the soaring walls. He was in a place of slaughter, regardless of how long ago the war had been fought, or even if he knew the names of the dead in this place.

Optimus's breath quickened through his vents, and he shivered. Was he damned? If he was damned, how was it that his wounds had been healed? He brushed aside the question. Useless ponderings about what he did not understand would do nothing. He continued his terse examination of his surroundings, which continued to yield no answers.

And, suddenly, the darkness and the silence around him dissolved into the gold and sepia, unveiling a strange world that lurched into view with one cataclysmic heave of ancient sacrifice and sacred silence again.

Optimus stood in stricken awe when his stunned processors finally recovered enough to understand where he was.

"_The Tomb of the Primes."_ He breathed it out as a prayer. It was a sacred legend, a beloved tale that had been passed down from ancestors to awed sparklings, a tale that had been interwoven through the energon and the history of the Autobots.

The Six Primes had literally made their flesh a living tomb to hide away what Megatron sought now, and he was now standing in their midst. As the light shifted, he saw the true price that was paid for such concealing. The Six had apparently linked arms and banded together, to form a fortress as they merged into the side of the mountain, sealing off forever the salvation of the humans from the Decepticons. Vaguely, he could make out the six marred facial shields, darkened with age, and bowed solemnly, their foreheads touching in a ring to form the soaring ceiling. Time had rusted the ancient metal, but he could see the dull gleam of their clenched fists, all joined together in that doomed cluster. There was only silence and dust and the passing mention of a legend. Optimus had faith that it had been real, but to stand here, now…it would probably be the human equivalent of finding the Garden of Eden real.

It made his heart clench in anguish, as he reverently lay a hand over the bent arm of one that jutted out from the walls of metal skeletons that had woven themselves into history. This was a tomb, a grave, an ending. Optimus shivered as he pondered his own fate to wind up here in this lost, and forgotten place.

Silently, he shut his eyes, wearily wishing that he had been offlined and not condemned.

As soon as those anguished thoughts seared through his neural pathways, he felt the strange warmth and light even as he opened his optics, startled.

"Optimus Prime, your fate does not end here." The voice was as vast and deep an ocean, reassuring and asture as Optimus pivoted, trying to locate the speaker.

"Who are you? Why am I here?" Optimus queried as he continued the futile search for some answer.

The light suddenly flared down from the ceiling, growing to encompass the entire tomb in gold. The shadows flickered and dissolved, the skeletal remains of the Primes gleaming obsidian.

Optimus bellowed as he found himself suddenly being lifted upward, the ceiling of the Prime's skulls dissolving to give found himself being gently heaved into a dark abyss of stars by an unseen hand.


	4. Jetfire's Wisdom

The familiar human world of Earth had fallen away, and now, it was spinning, haphazard as a flung marble. It rolled down down its celestial path, the swirling clouds wafting over the face of the blue. Optimus found himself floating miles above the small heaven. He was floating languidly in the drifting cosmos, and gaping at the luminous swaft of human lights.  
It was the most beautiful, and disorienting experience that Optimus ever had. He heard the strange, wafting hiss of a coy chuckle, heaved out through ancient vents from somewhere behind. Turning, or floating, he wasn't sure which he actually did-he saw the source of the laughter. It was even odder than the experience of dying and orbitting the Earth. The very galaxy itself seemed to shift back into a vortex, dizzyingly rapid and refracting back to the Tomb. It happened so fast, Optimus had no time to even cry out.

"It's a rather dull place, but it's a pretty lil' planet,none the less." Optimus's optics shot open as he whirled through the enormous tomb to locate the sound of the voice.  
There was a dry, brittle cackle, heaved out from aging vents. Optimus gaped as the old robot rocked with silent laughter, his rusted parts creaking in time to the chortling had bronzed his metal to a dull sheen of golden-black, but his fiery red optics were blazing up at Optimus with some sort of recognition. The old robot tottered forward,  
the loud scrape of old metal competing in volume with his hiss of effort to move.

Optimus stiffened and readied his cannon when he saw the muted sepia of the Decepticon symbol flicker over the dulled rust.

The old robot merely looked amused as he waved a joint between them, as if he could brush aside the obvious. "Now, there's no need for that, here. The cannon's will do you no good, and you've no need for them. I know it's hard to believe, what with the marking and all, but I'm on your side."

The old robot looked at the canon, and his shoulders creaked in the hitch of the shrug.  
"What would a Prime have to fear from the likes of me, anyway?"

Optimus scowled in confusion, and lowered the cannon old robot continued,as he waved a hand to indicate the entire tomb, "What sense would there be in a true Decepticon hanging about this tomb, when he should fly and inform Megatron that what he wants has been found,eh? Does that sound like the action of somebody on *his* side?"

Optimus sighed at that logical reasoning. He stared levelly at the robot, non-plussed, as he sternly demanded, "Who are you?"

The old bot narrowed his optics as he lurched over, raising his placating hands to show he meant no harm, and was weaponless. "Name's Jetfire, and I'll have you know that I've been on your side longer than you've been aware of this planet."

Optimus considered that information, carefully. Calmly, he spoke,"If you changed sides to the Autobots, why was I not aware of your existence beforehand? Why did you not make your allegiance known?"

Jetfire recoiled, his blades wafting back like a disturbed hornet's wings. "And what would be the sense in declaring my allegience to your side if you were going to blow my bloody head off after seeing the mark? Changing sides is a choice, bearing the symbol isn't."

Optimus sighed, and wearily scrubbed a hand over his optic shields. "Then accept my apologies for my....scepticism."

There was a caustic hack of a chuckle as Jetfire tilted his head to peer at him. "After bein' on their side and seeing what they can do, you've good reasons for your all, it was Megatron's cruelty that brought you here."

Optimus shuddered at that, the memories overwhelming, as Jetfire regretfully bowed his head. "It's the very things that he did and expected me to do that made me change sides. Who wants to live a life of hate, anyway?"

Optimus inhaled two shaking breaths, the old remembrance of his life's ending reverberating, the wound feeling just as fresh as when he was slain.  
He flinched when Jetfire suddenly faced him, inches apart, the agony of guilt withering in his eyes as he bowed his head again. "I can't take back what Megatron did."

Optimus forced the measured reassurance as he finally forced himself to speak. "I hold no-one responsible for Megatron's actions but Megatron."

Jetfire stared at him for a long moment, and finally said, "I know you may find it hard to understand now, what with me being naught but a rust bucket, but I'll help you in bringin' that monster down when the time comes."

Optimus forced his facial plates to remain passive and unrevealing as he simply nodded his head. "Thank you." It was a kind but futile offer. What on earth could such an aging old robot do?

Jetfire was now gazing upward at the tomb around him, the vague sadness even more poignant as he lay a hand reverently across one of the twisted appendages, and sighed.

"They suffered, you know. They lingered here in this place of stone, in this world that they had no reason to care for, and they died for it. Do the humans even have an inkling of their existence, or the price they paid?"

Optimus shook his head."Were it not for their presence here, the humans would have never been put in danger."

Jetfire squinted at that. "It ain't us being here that's the problem, it's Megatron's hatred that's endangering them. Until you and the humans learn the difference, there's naught else to be done."

Optimus stiffened bitterly. "And what is there possibly left to be done, Jetfire? Megatron took my life. It was in vain!"

Jetfire was silent, before he shook his head, the vague appendages rattling. "I don't suspect that the human boy you saved would view it that way. As for what's left to be done, if your work was finished on that lil' planet, you wouldn't be *here*"


	5. Here on Earth

The corpse of Optimus Prime was already airborne, hoisted high and dangling from the safety cords. The fleet of helicopters looked like a horde of mosquitoes as they continued their grim task of transporting the dead Autobot to his final resting place of the scrap heap.

Lennox watched them carry the body over the mountains, and stood with his eyes transfixed until they had faded from view. Glancing at Epps, he finally roused himself enough to lift the cell phone to his mouth and relay the final indignity to the Autobots.

Sam flinched at the chirp of the phone on the table, as Michaela gently steadied him. Frowning, she flipped it open, and glancing in surprise at the number, answered.

Lennox paused at the unfamiliar female voice at the other end of the line, and hesitantly asked, "Who is this?"

A sigh, and then a pause. "This is Michaela. Sam's…..busy. What's going on?"

"There's no easy way for me to put this, but Galloway's being a prick. He's already ordered Optimus' body removed. I don't know where yet, but I will alert the Autobots as soon as I know."

Michaela was silent and then whispered, "I'll let them know. Uh..thanks." Lennox gripped the phone in futile anger, before he finally asked, "How is Sam holding up, anyway? And the rest of the Autobots?"

Michaela groped for an answer as she turned to look at the Autobots. They were huddled next to each other, silent as mountains, their unhuman facial plates contorted with grief. Bumblebee had transformed to his more humanoid figure, and was crouched down besides Sam, who only stared and attempted a wan smile of reassurance to Bee. It melted miserably on his lips. Ironhide, running yet another one of his futile scans, sensed the vibration of the cell phone, and Michaela's tension. Gently flicking his auto-adjuster open to tune into the frequency, he silently hijacked the communication between Michaela and Lennox.

" Major Lennox, Michaela, this is Ironhide. I hope that you will forgive my intrusion on what I hope is not a personal conversation, but I heard you mention information about Optimus. What is it?"

Michaela squinted up at the massive robot as he simply tilted his head, waiting. Michaela stared up at him, clearly at a loss to speak, and Lennox was becoming unnerved from the quiet at the end of the line.

Hesitantly, he spoke at last, "Ironhide…Geeze, there's no easy way to put this. Galloway ordered the removal of Optimus'body. The choppers have already come and taken him away, but I don't know where yet-"

Lennox heard the curt inhalation,as Ironhide answered, "I see. Thank you, Major Lennox, for informing us of this. Rest assured that the actions of Galloway have no bearing on our opinions of you. Please inform us of any more news."

There was an abrupt clip and the call was terminated. Rising, Ironhide turned to Bumblebee. "Protect the humans." Bumblebee chirped his assent as Michaela flinched at the glittering rage in Ironhide's optics. Sam swallowed hard as Ironhide grimly twirled his cannons, and strode out of the hangar.

The expanse of the human world around him seemed to be cloaked in unreality. The vegetation splintered beneath his tense feet, the trees splintered in half and the earth itself seemed to shudder at his hulking, alien presence. Soil, cloying and strange crumbled as he stooped to cup a hand of the earth's skin, and let it drift back to the ground in a fine little cloud. His cannons ached to be fired, his weapons were large and useless to right this wrong. He was shackled by the one request that Prime had made of his comrades: Do not harm the humans.

Humans, with all their false belief in their own wit, their species-centered thought processes on a planet built on a hierarchy of life forms ruled by brutality and intelligence. There was nothing in the structure of these human constructed societies that spoke of justice. And yet, who was he to pass judgement when it was a member of his own ilk that was causing such pain? Megatron was a member of his species, just as Galloway was a human like Sam.

Ironhide halted his aimless path when he saw that his wonderings and troubled thoughts had taken him far from the hangar. He peered at the searing, high sun, watched as it lit the flat expanse of land, and the small, tree-studded swath of green that almost reached his head. He felt both small, and large, ancient and yet so ill-equipped to handle such a loss. Was this how the humans felt on occasion? They were so frail and small, but yet, there was something redeeming about them.

He halted midstride, narrowly avoiding planting his foot firmly into the strange arrangement of marble stones that were neatly arrayed in solemn little rows. Ironhide stopped, and tapped his optic scanner curiously. The stones were mostly rectangular, some square or even rounded, but all were carved smooth and had flowing, ornate writings containing human names, and dates. Ironhide breathed as he realized he had come across a grave-yard. Ironhide knew that the humans had the strange custom of often laying their deceased to rest in elaborate caskets that they buried.

He shook his head, as he studied the rows and rows of grave stones, each enscripted with a name, a time, and a loving invocation of either memory, or heaven. Sadly, he did an instantaneous calculation, adding up all of their life spans, and realized that all together, the deceased had less time than he had already lived.

Ironhide considered that sobering factor as he stared down at the dead. He did not know where these human souls went after their mortal flesh failed. For the first time, he understood at last that they were not so different when they lost somebody, either.


	6. The Lingering

Jetfire shifted uncomfortably, the loud creak of his rusted joints made all the louder by the silence of the tomb. It was a relunctant allowance for his age, and Optimus turned towards him, concerned.

"Are you alright?" It was respectful question, as Jetfire waved off his concern with easy dismissal. "I'm as right as rain so long as I'm moving, lad. Can't ask for more than that. "

Optimus's silence was unreadable as he turned his gaze back to his fallen ancestors. He ran an almost timid hand over one twisted, dark appendage. He winced when his sensors flared red with the traces of energon. There was so much of it registering through his neural pathways. Puddles, pools, the place was drenched in it at one time. It would have been what a human might deem a bloodbath. It was sickening. The aftermath was gut-wrenching to sense, to know. And, yet, the Primes were serene in their deaths. Their massive heads were joined in an eternal ring, their foreheads bowed and touching as if in prayer. Their limbs were at rest, relaxed, not in the final contortions of the death throes. They had suffered, but they had faced their demise with peace. Indeed, even after the eons had swept away the outside world, they looked as if they had simply fell into resting status, and did not troubled themselves to wake up. It was an oddly comforting thought to Optimus. If only his own exit from the human world could have been so noble and so peaceful.

Jetfire somehow sensed his loss, because he hobbled over and gave Optimus a long, meaningful look.

"Before ye start despairing, remember that I told you…your time down there isn't quite done yet. You've a choice to make."

Optimus tilted his head, puzzled. "What choice do I have to make? How can there be any choices left?"

Jetfire said nothing for a long moment, before he finally gestured upward, towards the Primes' death masks.

"You'll see. Trust me on that, you'll see."

Optimus had no more time to question further. The world around him suddenly fragmented into an eerie shimmer of sunlight. The gossamer threads gloamed out from the rocks themselves, bathing the Tomb in blinding white light. Optimus felt himself being heaved high, and floating, the sensation of falling deeper and deeper into the white, blinding world.

His hands groped for purchase, his sensors picked were searching desperately and the readings told him nothing. There was only the heavy breath of silence and then, he found himself abruptly laid prone on a stone floor.

The light wafted bright and then merged back to sepia, and as he slowly opened his optics, he found himself in the presences of the gods.

The Primes were enthroned on the stars themselves, or so it seemed. Light, pearled and brilliant, crowned their bowed heads. Their ageless eyes radiated, their massive presence filled eternity itself with the raw power and compassion. They did not speak, only watched as Optimus stared up at them, stricken. They towered over him. Overwhelmed, Optimus could not speak.

There was no need for mere speech when the Primes finally chose to communicate. Their thoughts merged into one voice, thundering down into the tomb like a tidal wave, but yet as quiet as a child's whisper. Optimus felt, rather than heard their words as they gently settled into his thoughts.

"Worthy was your sacrifice, Optimus Prime." It was warm praise, spoken with kind regard as Optimus sighed deeply, and gazed up at the faces of his ancestors.

"It was not enough. I failed to protect the humans and the Autobots. I don't even know if the boy is alive." The anguished words burst forth before he could halt them. Trembling, he shook his head.

"I fear that my comrads will soon be joining me." The words were brittle with pain, as Optimus garnered his courage to finally ask the horrible question that had plagued him since he had died. "Do they still live?"

There was only a silence in answer that seemed to last an eternity, as Optimus's tortured thoughts over their welfare continued their dark descent. Finally, the Primes answered.

"Fear not. They live."

Optimus shuddered. "They won't live much longer if Megatron finds them. I must return to them. I can't leave them to face this alone."

"Those who have crossed the threshold do not return from where they came, Optimus Prime. Long eons have we lingered here because of this."

Optimus looked at them, tilting his head incredulously. "Is it beyond your power as well? Is that why you are still here?"

The sadness of the sacrifice was viciously clear as the Primes solemnly glanced at each other, and then, with one collective motion, bowed their heads in unison. Optimus found himself being presented with a ring of battered metal, old scars, a tapestry of anguish and nobility.

"We linger here, Optimus Prime, because our task is not yet finished. We sacrificed our lives to conceal what must remain secret from the responsibility does not end with our last breath. Neither does yours."


	7. The Reckoning Part One

Ironhide continued to expunge some of his rage by blasting a few more trees into oblivion. They splintered with a loud crack, flying apart and spewing pieces of the trunks everywhere. Ironhide had done a quick scan of them before he obliterated them to ensure that not even a bird would be harmed by his cannon. He could almost hear Optimus' gentle admonishment to leave the Earth's creatures be. It would be dishonoring to his friend's memory to kill defenseless creatures in a fit of rage. That was the sort of cruelty a Decepticon indulged in.

Ironhide allowed himself the rare luxury to slump into contemplation. Easing himself downward, Ironhide sat next to the graveyard, his shadow engulfing the stones as the sun continued her slow arch over the distant hills.

The stillness was broken by the invasive chirp of his intercom, alerting him to an incoming call.

"Ironhide?"

Lennox's hesitant voice filtered through the speaker.

"Major Lennox. Is there a problem?" Ironhide's tone was wary, but evasively polite, as Lennox paused.

"Can you track me over the 'com?" Ironhide, clearly puzzled, answered, "Of course. Why?"

"I think you need to come here, Ironhide, as soon as you can." The line went dead, leaving Ironhide perplexed at the odd behavior. There had been an urgency in Lennox's tone, but no fear, or hint of anything being wrong. Ironhide sped off towards the signal.

The smug, curt grin never left Galloway's face as he watched Optimus's corpse swaying in the wind on his orders. True, the massive hulk of metal was intimidating, still, but at least the machine was now rendered useless, and understood. The convoy continued to bear its load to the wide, flat field that was near enough and large enough to accommodate the task of scrapping the junk heap. It was task that Galloway particularly held dear- a chance to study first hand the technology of the alien robots, and glean understanding of the weapons that their bastard leader had willfully omitted. Seeing Optimus limp and dead gave him an odd thrill, much like the mouse who saw the cat she feared finally killed.

Galloway's vainglorious musings were interrupted by the chirp of his phone. Irritably, he flipped it open, and tucked it behind his ear, never halting from watching the corpse being flown lower to the ground.

"Mr. Galloway." Galloway grimaced at the unwelcome sound of General Murshower. He was an old wolf devoting too much time to the puppies they called Marines..it was irritating.

"What? I don't have time for any more nonsense, General." Galloway spat in irritation as he heard Murshower's smug retort.

"Mr. Galloway, I've received standing orders from the President that you are to cease and desist any more transportation of the Autobot's leader."

Galloway's indignant squawk was ignored as the General languidly continued. "The fact of the matter is, Mr. Galloway, the President believes that you may have compromised the safety of the NEST opps. The Autobots are our allies in the war against the Decepticons. We can't afford to piss them off by hauling their leader's body out to a field to be made into scrap metal. The President is reinstating the NEST operatives immediately, and you have standing orders to withdraw. Major Lennox will be there soon to resume command."

Galloway sneered in answer, "I'll believe it when I see the orders, General."

There was a pause, before Murshower spoke. "Mr. Galloway, it's not the orders you have to worry about. If you don't like it, you can negotiate with the Autobot ambassador, that's coming to see that those orders are halted. I'd be a bit careful about pissing him off. Murshower over and out."

It was then that Galloway noticed the large, and very intimidating black truck that was steadily flying over the road. Something was clearly amiss, because the truck continued its barreling path, veering sharply off the road, and darting straight through the dirt. Galloway scowled in puzzlement as the truck sped up. Galloway's scowl wilted into uncertainty, and then outright fear when the truck charged like a bull, and nearly ran him over. Galloway instinctively leapt out of the way, feeling the cold lash of the wind as it swept over him in one foul cloud of exhaust. Galloway was inches from being killed when the truck abruptly lurched to a stop, and opened its door.

Galloway, still sprawled on the ground, gaped to see Major Lennox grimly emerge from the truck. He squinted in the bright light, his eye narrowing in disgust at Galloway. Lennox felt Ironhide's shudder when he saw Optimus. There was a hiss of vents, some deep emotion reverberating through the Autobot as Lennox finally ventured a question.

"Ironhide? You alright?"

There was a long, loaded pause, before Ironhide answered. "Major Lennox, please step away. I am going to transform ."

Lennox leapt off the runner, backing away several feet to avoid getting hit by the numerous gears and shifts that would seen be the miasma of change. Galloway, by then, had risen to his feet, and was already spluttering the rather laughable threats.

Lennox gave him a serene smile, as he whispered to Ironhide. "Ya know, if you do shoot him, I promise not to say anything."

"Do not tempt me." The biting answer was nearly lost as Ironhide began his transformation to his more humanoid form. There was the whirl of motors, gears spinning, machines rearranging themselves into complex patterns and merging into the more familiar limbs that Lennox recognized. Galloway scuttled away from the Autobot, looking stricken enough to soil his pants.

Ironhide emerged from the transformation, with his red optics fixed on Galloway like a target as he began his pantheresque pace towards him. Casually, Ironhide spun the mechanisms on his arm weapon until the cannon flared open.

Lennox swallowed hard when Ironhide slowly lowered his weapon to nearly eye level with the shaking, sweating Galloway. The Autobot tilted his head to the side, and gave Galloway a scathing glance as he looked towards Optimus's body, still in its forlorn heap.

"Ironhide? You don't need to shoot him. He's a prick, but come on…"


	8. Honoring the Fallen Part One

Galloway's gulp was audible as his eyes slid from the massive cannon leveled at his skull to the narrowed optics that were glaring above it. Ironhide allowed the barrel to twirl, click into place and come to a halt in that eerie, waiting silence.

Harsh breath, hissing in panic. Galloway's eyes wavering between the wound to his pride and that pleading glance to any of the men to do something.

Ironhide did a quick bio-scan, and noted the sudden surge of the heart-beats, the stench of sweat and fear as Galloway miserably bit his lip and stood rooted to the ground. Time slide on, ground itself to a halt, and seemed to linger here in this longing to blow his head off and be done with it.

"Ironhide." Lennox was alarmed by the Autobot's refusal to lower his cannon. Ironhide stood rigid and wordless and unreachable as Lennox swallowed hard, not knowing if he truly intended to kill the human after all.

"Ironhide!" It was bellowed out as Lennox suddenly gripped the cannon's tip in both hands and tried to bodily shove it away. The Autobot shuddered as the realization of how close he had come to killing rippled through him.

"Ironhide, don't do this. Optimus wouldn't want this." Lennox was clearly fighting panic as Ironhide shook off the torpor almost unnoticed. The mention of Optimus's name was harrowing to his growing awareness of how close he had come. Distressed, and sickened by his actions, Ironhide silently rolled the cannon back into its non-combat position. Galloway sagged in relief as he breathed out a long-held breath.

Lennox pat Ironhide's gear in gratitude and empathy as Galloway swallowed hard and tried to regain his blustering pretense of authority. It was a miserable and irritating display that only earned a snort from Lennox.

"General Murshower wanted you back at the base to await the new orders, sir. I wouldn't keep him waiting for long."

Galloway opened his mouth to sneer, but was stopped short by Ironhide merely rising to his full, towering height.

"I would suggest that you obey the edicts of your leader with upmost haste." Ironhide's were dripping ice as he unhitched the cannon with emphasis. Galloway gave them a last glare, but kept his mouth shut as he slank away.

Lennox gave him a smug salute and resisted the temptation to hasten his departure with a good, swift kick. Ironhide did not trouble himself to watch Galloway's hasty and welcome departure.

Ironhide forced himself forward, and forced himself to take the long, tortured stare at his dead leader's corpse. The stench of energon, now decaying under the sun's glare was overwhelming. Sam had said very little about what had actually killed Optimus, and after seeing for himself the brutal wounds, Ironhide was grateful. Even in death, Optimus's agonized ending was clear, from the twisted limbs, still bent from their futile movements, to that broken face still contorted in anguish. It was sickening to the point of being unreal, detached. Ironhide, for all of his analytic proclivities, could not link this dismembered horror to remains of his friend. Such distance was mercifully numbing. Was this numb detachment the same feelings that humans had if they came across a murder victim? Was this shudder of disbelief the same shudder that a Decepticon felt when one of their own finally fell?

The suffering of Optimus in his final moments had been nothing less than torture, steadily meted out from an onslaught of depravity. The ravaged wounds bore the testimony to that. Sam was too traumatized at the time to offer any of the specifics as to what killed Optimus. Ironhide shook his head in sorrow. Megatron would not be satisfied with a clean, merciful kill when he could draw it out to a long and tortured annilation.

And even though he died protecting one of them, the humans inflicted the final indignity of flinging his remains to the earth like trash. It was such a disgusting violation. Ironhide was perplexed with the renewed rage.

From behind, Lennox cautiously called his name. Ironhide pivoted, his optics narrowed and wary.

"Captain Lennox." The tone was guarded and almost hesitant. Lennox sighed. The last thing he wanted to do was intrude even more on Ironhide's private grief. Hesitantly, he spoke.

"I'm sorry for what's been done to Optimus. He deserves better than this."

Ironhide accepted that with a curt nod and a quiet, biting, "Thank you."

Awkwardly, Lennox continued. "For what it's worth, I'm replacing Galloway. The President has ordered Optimus be given over to you guys. I don't know if you hold funerals, or what not, but none of us will interfere with it."

Ironhide answered gruffly, "We have funerary rites for our dead, just as you humans memorialize your loved ones. However, we do not bury our dead. Our home world was not comprised of this organic matter you call dirt. Burying our dead is impractical."

Lennox raised an eyebrow. "I know that your metal doesn't burn, so cremation's out. What exactly *do* you do?"

Ironhide did not answer for a long time, and Lennox wondered if he had somehow overstepped a boundary with the blunt question.

"We honor them, Captain Lennox. We do not see the point in placing their remains in a decorated box and reducing their memories to etchings on a stone. We entomb our dead in crypts and infuse their memories with our own. In doing this, we ensure that their memories will be transmitted to future generations, and we derive comfort from their bond. I do not believe it is much different than the human use of eulogies."


	9. The Tomb of the Primes Part Two

linger here, Optimus Prime, because our task is not yet finished. We sacrificed our lives to conceal what must remain secret from the responsibility does not end with our last breath. Neither does yours."

Optimus stared up at them, dwarfed and frail as he whispered in agony, "Then tell me how to return. I cannot leave those I love to die at their hands. Please don't allow any more of them to join me here."

The Primes were silent for a long, brutal moment, before they finally answered. " We have not the power to return you to the human world. Were we to reveal our presence, the Decepticons would destroy your one chance to save both worlds."

Optimus was grateful that his mouthshield hid the twisting of his facial gears. He shuddered with rage and forced out the slow exhalation of breath. He did not speak until he knew that he could hide his rage and desperation.

"I cannot allow my loved ones to suffer as I did. How can I get back to them?"

"We speak not in riddles to wound you, but to protect you, Optimus. You are noble, but yet very young, and have much to learn. "

Optimus bowed his head at the gentle chastisement. "Forgive me, but it is unbearable for me to stay here."

There was another long silence that was rapidly growing more unbearable. Even Optimus flinched at the sudden sound when the Primes commanded.

"Seeker, come forth."

Jetfire was content to be ignored. He felt as if his very presence was somehow violating and intrusive, especially after hearing Optimus' anguish, not over his horrific murder, but for those who had been left on Earth.

Jetfire attempted to shuffle away discretely from the massive, holy thing he was witnessing. Unfortunately, one of his rusted joints hitched in a sudden, loud squeal of grinding gears. Jetfire cringed and halted. It sounded as loud as gunfire as it echoed through the cavernous rock around him. The silence did not end as the Primes merely turned their heads in one collective wave to peer down at him. The wan light slid over Jetfire's scars and rust, and the cursed Decepticon marking over his wing. Humiliated, Jetfire tried to hide the thing in his unsuccessful attempt to remain behind one of the pillars.

Optimus turned to him, his optics flickering in sudden understanding at his shame when he saw the Decepticon marking. Turning to the Primes, Optimus spoke. "The only thing that he and the Decepticons have in common is that mark. He is not our enemy."

Jetfire was silent, but clearly awed by the sudden absolution, as Optimus firmly stated, "He has committed no evil deed against me."

The Primes continued their infinite silence, only holding Jetfire with their searing gaze, as if in gentle contemplation. Finally, they spoke, in warm, deep amusement.

"Noble Seeker, you shielded our location from your master Megatron. Were it not for you, our deaths would have been in vain."

Jetfire hitched his shoulders in a shrug, the joints squealing in protest. "Were it not for my finding this dirty lil' planet, it wouldn't have been necessary at all."

Optimus 's optics widened as he turned to Jetfire. "You defied Megatron?"

Jetfire squinted up at him, leaning heavily on the wall, sagging as if his age and his past life were too much of a burden to bear.

"You must understand this. I bear the mark of a Decepticon, true enough. But I didn't join his side with any malicious intent. I was a Seeker, with a mission to find sources of energon so that our race wouldn't perish. That was the lie Megatron told me when he gave me this task. I didn't defy him. I simply came to this lil' planet, and simply never came back. I thought that Earth was small enough to be overlooked, and far enough to be ignored. I couldn't very well switch sides with no Autobots 'round me, and I can't remove this mark. So, I simply transformed into the flying machine these humans use, and simply went into stasis when their technology changed. I couldn't transform into their newfangled planes. I can't even keep my parts from fallin' off me. I turned off all my signals, and was perfectly content to slumber there in that lil' museum. But, now, that time of sleep 's passed." The last words were spoken with sharp awareness as Jetfire turned to face the Primes.

"Your location isn't known to the Decepticons, but it's only a matter of time before they do. Without Optimus here, the Autobots and the humans have some long odds at survival."

Jetfire turned to Optimus. "I know I'm old and rusted, but I pledge to my last rusty bolt I'll help you. We're in the presence of the Primes! If there was anyone who could make this right, they can."

Optimus grimly nodded. "Thank you."

Lennox did not know what to say to Ironhide, as the Autobot slid down to one knee, in grief. He was silent as he bowed his head, and said nothing as he kept that long, anguished vigil over the corpse. Awkwardly, Lennox waited as long as he deemed appropriate before he finally ventured to speak.

"Ironhide, I'm giving the standing order that nobody is to interfere or disrupt you Autobots in..taking care of Optimus' remains. Do you need us to arrange a transport, or do you want to handle it?"

The red optics narrowed as Ironhide regarded him. "I thank you for your….compassion in this matter, Major Lennox. I will call my comrads, and we shall transport Optimus ourselves.


	10. Brittle

It felt like an open wound, and only seared the knowledge deeper. Until the rest of the Autobots laid eyes on Optimus's battered shell, there was still the merciful distance of disbelief. It shattered when the slow cavalcade rolled over the hillside, and down to the large, flat piece of land. Ironhide wasted no words or time in summoning them to transport their leader and comrade. They had come in a strange, mournful parade, Ratchet and the twins leading. Bumblebee was trailing behind with Sam and Michaela. It was clear that the humans were torn and uncertain about showing their support, and reigning in their intrusion. Sam looked miserable with guilt, as Michaela draped an arm over him, a futile attempt to comfort. Bumblebee chirped some soothing music, and Sam pat his dashboard in silent gratitude for the understanding.

Bumblebee circled around and parked from an angle where Optimus would not be so visible. He opened his door, and waited for the humans to exit. Sam's shaking hands were still gripping his steering wheel. Michaela pursed her lips as she turned to him, gently cupping his chin, forced him to look into her eyes.

"Sam. This is not your fault. You didn't do this." He was already shaking his head, and opening his mouth to spew more self-revulsion and negation. She silenced the flood of recrimination with a desperate kiss. He shuddered when she pulled away, her eyes searing and waiting. "This isn't your fault." She said steadily, her hand already on the door latch. Bumblebee rumbled encouragement and lurched forward. Sam managed a quivering, tired smile of reassurance as he turned to her. "Thanks." He whispered. She gave him a knowing, coy smile and an affectionate eyeroll as she exited the car. Sam lingered, tense and drawing a shaking breath for strength as he lay hands on the dashboard.

"Thanks, Bee, for helping me through this. You're a pal." Bumblebee rumbled in answer, as Sam finally got out.

Lennox tilted his head in acknowledgment as Sam and Michaela joined him in his dubious vigil. He had maintained a respectful distance from Optimus's corpse, and was clearly at a loss as to what to do now. Ironhide had said nothing in reproach, or even a hint that the humans were unwelcome, or intruding. Lennox narrowed his eyes at Sam and Michaela, and scowled when he saw the damage. Sam looked like he had been through hell, and back, bruises, cuts, torn clothes. Michaela looked worn and resigned, from the tired, protective way she kept glancing at Sam.

"You alright?" He asked quietly, as Sam only shook his head and Michaela apologetically shrugged. "What's going to happen now?" Michaela asked.

"Galloway's been demoted, and I've been appointed to his position." Both of them looked at Lennox in surprise as he hitched an awkward shoulder. "I don't know what's going to happen….but at least they can pay their respects to Optimus without any more interference. " Lennox grimaced at the violation they had already endured with so much patience.

There were no words spoken as the Autobots silently formed a small, protective cluster around Optimus's remains. Together, they all knelt to the earth, flanking each other as they bowed their heads. Ironhide's voice rang out, clear and strong and ravaged with emotion.

"Optimus Prime would have never wanted us to be united in the cruelest way: a shared sense of loss. Saying farewell to our brother, friend, leader, and loved one is not the way that any of us imagined his dream being achieved. And, yet, humans and Autobots now grieve together, because of him. He died the way he lived: defending those he loved. And, were Optimus given the choice, I do not believe he would have chosen another ending. So, now….we are left behind, with the unanswered questions, and memories. As brittle as this grief may be, I consider it a small price for the honor of knowing Optimus. Farewell, old friend. Your sacrifice was not in vain. May you rest until the day…all are one."

The humans were in tears as Ironhide fell silent. The Autobots rose, and as they did, lifted the corpse reverently. Gently, they held him aloft, careful to keep the limbs from undignified dangling, to not disturb the battered wreck any more. Ironhide cradled Optimus's head, shivering at the cold, dead sensation. True, they did not have flesh, but once the circulatory regulators ceased working, their bodies grew cold like a human's.

If there was any doubt this was a horrible delusion, it was viciously erased when Ironhide forced himself to peer down at the agonized, empty face. Snarling, he groped at the visor mechanism on the side of Optimus's jawline. There was a shrill creak of metal as the battered thing slid into place, shielding most of Optimus's shattered mouth and covering the lost eye socket. It was a bit less excruciating to ignore the brutality when it was concealed. Optimus now looked more at rest.

Ironhide waited, and the Autobots nodded. By unspoken agreement, they turned as one, and began the longest, saddest journey of their lives: carrying their leader to his resting place.

Sam raised an eyebrow to Lennox and Michaela. Ironhide caught Bumblebee's anguished look at the humans. Gently, Ironhide tilted his head in their direction, and quietly said, "Bring them, Bumblebee."

Bumblebee gave him a look of gratitude before he transformed. Sam, Michaela and Lennox were quickly seated. Bumblebee kept a slow lurch behind the sad procession. The Autobots made the journey back to the Hangar unhindered, their burden only made bearable by sharing its weight.

Ironhide did not flinch or waver as the unwelcome memories came unbidden. It was of a conversation that he and Optimus had. It had seemed so random and unnecessary at the time, but now, it was painful and poignant.

It was the day that the Autobots arrived at the human built hangar. It was a massive concrete bunker, that had several rooms large enough to accommodate their size. It was hardly home, and the stench of the humans was almost unbearable. Still, it was far better than remaining in stasis outside, and it offered shelter from prying eyes. With its metal interior, and various mechanisms, it was the closest thing to "home" any of them could hope for. Optimus had silenced the whining with a grimace of irritation, and he sighed in understanding.

"I know that these accommodations are not ideal for any of us. However, we have little choice but to accept them with grace and make the best of them. The humans are trying to accept us. We should at least do the same."

So they settled into their new "home." Gradually, when they became accustomed to the planet, the Hangar became familiar, and even comforting.

It was a cold day that Ironhide found Optimus in a rare moment of free time. Optimus stood, contemplating something that made him look both very burdened, and alone. Ironhide scowled in concern, unable to decipher what could cause such distress. Finding no visible cause, Ironhide hesitantly halted, wondering if it would be less intrusive for him to simply continue on his way. He stopped when he saw Optimus shutter his optics and lay a weary hand over his helm. His head drooped, the bitter sigh escaped as if under a tremendous weight.

"Optimus? Is something troubling you?" Ironhide regretted the invasive question as soon as it left his mouth. Optimus pivoted sharply, startled.

"Forgive me, I did not mean to interrupt you." Ironhide said apologetically. Optimus's voice was tired and polite as he answered, "You did not interrupt me, Ironhide. Thank you for your concern."

"It is not my place to know your thoughts, Optimus, but if something troubles you, might I be able to help?"

Optimus jerked sharply at the question, his optics narrowing at that. There was a long silence, before Optimus finally answered, "Please understand, Ironhide, that there are some burdens that are not meant for anybody else to bear."

Ironhide flinched at the sad finality in his voice, as he warily gazed around the vast, empty room that Optimus was in. It was the largest room in the Hangar, a cold, sterile place with shining metal walls and a huge door that would seal it away from the world. It had been installed, ironically as a shelter against an attack. The Autobots found it to be too eerie, and uncomfortable to stay in it for any length of time. The shining walls, the alien stench of the place made it almost unbearable to stay in. The Autobots left it unoccupied, and instinctively avoided it. Surely Optimus had not found this place to be a refuge?

Optimus lay a palm against the metal wall, gauged the soaring ceiling, and then turned to Ironhide. "I will discuss it with the rest of the Autobots, but if there is no objection, I think we will designate this place as a tomb. I hope that this room always remains empty for that reason, Ironhide."

With that, Optimus shook his head. "When the time comes for this tomb to be filled, I only ask that none join me here. I accept that the price of leadership is sacrifice. It is an honor, and not a burden, Ironhide. The true sacrifice that I'm not willing to pay is seeing one of you laying here in my stead. That would be unforgivable."


	11. The Last Rites

The eulogy had been sparse, but it spoke of a grief and a loss that mere words could never hold. Ironhide had spoken for them all, and attempted to give what bitter bit of solace. Somewhere, Michaela's choked sob resonated, as Sam shut his eyes to squeeze back the tears. They had carried the earthly remains of Optimus back to the Hangar, and had halted at its door, as if awaiting orders, or direction. Ironhide cleared his throat uneasily, as he gave the corpse a troubled glance. Sighing deeply, he spoke quietly, "Optimus deserves to be at peace. He will remain undisturbed here." There were several silent nods of agreement, as Ironhide turned to the massive Hangar doors, and activated the code to operate them. They quietly swung open wide, as the sensor equipped lights flickered to life. One by one, the massive corridor was illuminated, revealing walls of concrete, a dully gleaming floor, and sepia hues, with the pervasive smell of energon.

As one, the Autobots quietly crossed the threshold, solemnly bearing Optimus over their home for the last time. Sam, Michaela, and Lennox lingered at the entrance, giving each other uncertain glances. Sam's face contorted, as Lennox awkwardly pat his quaking shoulder and whispered something in his ear. Michaela flinched when Ironhide and Bumblebee came to them. Bumblebee chirped, as Ironhide solemnly regarded them.

"You are not responsible for the death of Optimus. The blame for this lies solely with Megatron, and nobody else. Were there something that you could have done to stop this, you would have done so. As would we. Optimus considered you his friends and allies, as do we. Please honor his memory with us."

Lennox grimly nodded, steeling himself, as he pointedly jerked his head towards the corridor. Sam gave Ironhide a trembling smile. Michaela stooped for a moment, and latched her fingers around a cluster of clover that was blooming in the open air.

The Autobots were now standing together at the entrance of the designated tomb. It was a solemn, isolated place, located at the back of the Hangar, and unobtrusive enough to be ignored or traveled to as needed.

The door sealing off the chamber was a luminous silver, shimmering dully in the light. Sam lay a palm on it, and flinched at how cold it felt. Ironhide entered the code to the glowing keypad, and the massive doors slowly unfurled like engulfing wings.

The walls of the chamber were coated in the same shimmering material as the doors. It was like looking into a room of light refracting off of water. The ceiling soared over their heads, rising to an arch of light and then falling back down into the cornerless walls. The floor beneath them was as smooth as polished glass, the color of obsidian. It held the air of a cathedral, and Sam felt both small and awed. The Autobots shouldered Optimus's body carefully, and with Ironhide's sad nod, they carried their slain leader's remains to his final resting place.

Ironhide faced the shining wall for a long, agonized moment, before he activated the unseen panels in the chamber. There was a ripple of light falling over all of them as the panels parted, sliding over each other, in precise organization, shifting into ever widening squares until the tomb itself was revealed. A long obsidian platform slid out like a tongue from a consuming mouth. Sam gulped at the cavernous opening in the wall. There seemed to be nothing but a gaping abyss of black. Sam felt Bumblebee's protective arms draping over his shoulders.

With infinite reverence, the Autobots lay Optimus down at last on the slab. There was only that long moment of torture as Ironhide forced himself to look at the corpse one more time. It felt like what a human must feel when stabbed, he mused, idly.

Memories flickered through his neural pathways, unwanted. Optimus Prime, strong and certain as a mountain, leading them into battle, guiding them through their anguish, and always bearing the unseen wounds that such a monstrous task could inflict. How could such a bright spirit ever been inhabited by the mortal shell of broken metal and parts that lay under his gaze now? How could somebody so great, and so very needed perish in a few moments at the hands of such a great evil? The injustice of the murder screamed out for an absolution that Ironhide knew would never come. And were he to harness his rage and dismantle the hated ones who did this to his friend, he knew with no unflinching certainty that he would happily see them resurrected and cut down again an infinite number of times…and it would never be enough.

What would happen to them now? They were leaderless, and if the enemy could kill their most formidable fighter, what chances of survival did they have? Optimus was largely regarded as being the fragile bridge that spanned the species gap between the humans and the Autobots. Would the humans order them off the planet? Ironhide silenced the questions with a wince. He would have nothing but time for the anguished answers later.

It was a searing, but comforting realization to know that this battered wreck on this slab, these shattered remains were only the physical aftermath, and not Optimus. It was his corpse laying on the slab, it was his remains, but it wasn't *him.* Optimus was no more here in this tomb than the fallen leaf was part of the wind, or the rain was a part of the sky.

Optimus' facial shield was cloaked in the shadows, the once luminous eyes now darkened forever. Ironhide forced his gaze to remain on the face, and not the massive wounds, or the finality of the whole thing.

Sam and Michaela came forward together, as Lennox remained a respectful distance. Sam peered down at the corpse, as Michaela clutched him against her side. Biting her lip, she tossed the handful of flowers over Optimus. Ironhide tilted his head curiously, as Lennox hastily intervened with a quiet explanation.

"I know it's strange to you guys, but we have flowers at human funerals. It's a way of showing respect for the one who's died."

Lennox warily gauged Ironhide's reaction as he accepted it with a nod. "I think that Optimus would be pleased." Michaela gave him a quivering smile of appreciation.

It was not in the custom of the Autobots to have elaborate ceremonies to honor what they considered a corpse and nothing more. They held no wakes, they did not have caskets, and they felt the human custom of lavishing so much attention on earthly remains to be rather sordid. To Sam, Michaela, and Lennox, it seemed rather rushed and indifferent when Ironhide entered the code to retract the platform.

Optimus' body lurched as the platform began its path back into the wall. Slowly, his feet were engulfed by shadow, followed by his torso, as his body was gently consumed by the darkness of the chamber. There was the final gleam of the light on his helm, before Optimus was finally taken from their sight, and the panels silently slid back into place.


	12. Burdens unknown

The loud, and infinite silence of the cavernous tomb was severed by Jetfire. He slowly heaved himself upward, tottering forward for balance as his wing blades scraped together in a shrill twang. Optimus flinched in surprise at the sudden noise, and twisted around to see Jetfire's head drop in embarrassment.

Optimus and Jetfire had been silenced from further query, when the Primes had answered their troubled thoughts with one thundering reply.

"Cease the seeking for answers we cannot yet reveal, young Optimus. It is not yet time for your return to the earth."

And with that cryptic reply, the searing golden light had flickered like a dying sun. There was the bright shift of overwhelming light.

Jet-fire felt the very earth beneath him shiver in the tidal wave of fire that seemed to burn down the world. It was over before he could even name the sensation that he felt. Grunting with effort, he lurched upright, and tottered a few steadying steps. The Primes had not ceased their unhurried scrutiny, and Jet-fire was unnerved to find no trace of Optimus.

Pivoting, he saw Optimus at his feet. The Autobot was laying prone on the earth, his palms calmly at rest, his posture languid and resting. Narrowing his optics, Jet-fire timidly tapped Optimus' arm with his crutch, and cringed at the hollow clang. There was no movement of any sort, and his failing scanners could not pick up any traces of life.

"Be at ease, Seeker. He is at rest. "

Jet-fire eyed Optimus dubiously, then back to the Primes. "I mean no disrespect, please know that. But is he meant to return to the earth? Surely ye can't mean for the rest of his kind to join us here?"

The Primes peered down at him, unearthly serene. The compassion and the sorrow were evident even in their thunderous voices.

"We do not hold him here, Seeker. We do not have the means to send him back from whence he came. It is in the power of the humans to draw forth Optimus Prime. Until they discover for themselves their own strength, they will succumb to Megatron."

Jet-fire sighed heavily. "Do ye know how stupid the humans can be? How can such frail lil' fleshbags like them defeat the Decepticons without a Prime ? "

There was only the silence, again, and then, the compassionate and unexpected question flung down to Jet-fire.

"Seeker, will you help Optimus Prime return?"

The unexpected inquiry felt like a blow. Jet-fire narrowed his optics, skeptically. "And what can an old, rustin' thing like me do, eh?"

"The time will come, Seeker, when you will be called upon to sacrifice greatly, on behalf of both Autobot and human. Do not speak lightly of your choice in saving them both."

The Primes paused to let Jet-fire absorb the magnitude of what they had said. Finally, Jet-fire answered, hesitantly, "I'm an ol' rust-bucket that only escaped Megatron by fleein' as a coward. Ye know this?"

They continued their baleful, waiting quiet. Jet-fire hitched a shoulder joint, dubiously, and winced at the grinding squeal of his parts.

"And exactly how am I supposed to be turnin' the tide in their favor, hmmm? I'm just an old bot."

"The Autobots and humans will not be saved by strength, Seeker. "

Jet-fire stared down at the limp form of Optimus, and then at the sepia walls, and then the majestic Primes that were still soaring over his head.'

"I don't think that any' s paid a higher price than you. I'm willin." Doubt clawed at him, the heavy weight of realization was already thundering down on his faltering awareness, as he inwardly cringed at the fear warring with the resolve.

"You are an Autobot at heart, regardless of the outward symbol you bear, Seeker. Say nothing of this to Optimus. Farewell."

The gentle finality of their voices was alarming, but far more terrifying was the sudden swirl of the world dissolving again.

Jet fire was blinded for a moment, as he felt himself being swept up as in a sudden wind. He plummeted abruptly, as his sight suddenly flared back. Disoriented by the sudden change, Jetfire shut his optics and waited for his balancing mechanism to function. The tomb was bathed in the sepia glow, and then wilted into the black once more. The Primes had vanished in the shards of light. The light swelled, catching fire, absolving the walls and then faltering into the dead stone once more. Jetfire felt the cold stone strewn with sand beneath him. He groused with irritation as he slowly opened his eyes.

He found himself sprawled and staring at the corpses of the Primes, shivering at their empty gazes to a vanquished future. Optimus had already righted himself, and was peering down at him, his blue optics tilting with concern. Silently, he held out Jetfire's crutch, and another hand to haul the old bot upright. Jetfire grunted as Optimus heaved him to his feet, and steadied him, before handing him his crutch.

Jetfire looked at the crutch as if he wanted to fling it away. "Thank ye, lad. Drat these old parts!" Jetfire tottered in irritation.

"Are you alright?" Optimus eyed the old bot with concern as Jetfire waved a hand in dismissal.

"I may be old, but I'm not off-lined, you know."

Jetfire regretted the words as soon as he had spoken them. Optimus stiffened at the reminder, however unnecessary it was.

"If you and I are not off-lined, then what are we, Jet-fire?" The question was quiet as Optimus narrowed his optics resolutely. "If you have any answers, please provide them."

Jet-fire wearily nodded, as he heaved himself up against the wall. "I'm not sure of the proper term for it, but no, we ain't off-lined, or what the humans would call 'dead.' Elseways, you'd be at peace about leaving behind that dirty lil' planet, and the Primes themselves would be at rest."

Optimus raised a skeptical optic shield. "Why can I not return to the human world?'

Jet-fire answered, after a long moment, "Because the humans have to do for themselves what ye cannot."

Optimus scowled at him. "I cannot stay here and allow anyone else to perish at Megatron's hands, Jet-fire. It is my responsibility to protect them!"

Jet-fire shook his head. "And ye did that. Nobody sacrificed more to keep the humans and the Autobots safe than you."

Optimus shook his head, wearily. "But it is not enough." He said quietly. "It will never be enough for Megatron."

Jet-fire continued his attempt to comfort, awkwardly, "I know that it's not an easy thing to accept. Megatron was quite scathin' in his opinion of yore mercy, but was quite scared of yore cannons. But, lad, they're in the human world, now, and the humans will have to learn how to fight them with their own ways. Elseways, what chance of survival would ye give 'em if something happens to the rest of the Autobots? "

Optimus lowered his helm, to shield the grimace of his facial gears. "The humans are our allies, and friends, but they could not withstand Megatron. Do you not yet know what he is capable of?"

Jet-fire's rebuke stung just as much as Optimus's realization of his words.

"I served under him, deceived as I was, and for however brief a time. I'll have ye know I'm very aware of what he's capable of! "

There was only silence as Optimus raised a placating hand. "Please accept my apologies. I was in no way attempting to negate what you have done. I do not consider you my enemy, Jet-fire."


	13. The Musing of the Enemy

Megatron was feeling vaguely cheated. It should have felt like a victory, a soaring moment of triumph when Optimus Prime finally succumbed to the ravages of the attack. He relished the shudder of the dying Autobot as he was hoisted high, impaled by his own weapon. The reverberation of the blast to his torso, the bright fragmenting pieces falling down like rain, searing through his overwhelmed sensors...Megatron savored the memories, but realized they were a poor compensation, and no substitute for the actual moment.

Megatron had honestly hoped for the chance to obliterate Prime, but he had never thought it possible. The Autobot was unflinching, and almost pathological in his ability to dismantle an enemy, especially if Prime's sense of rigid justice was violated.

Megatron was less than pleased to admit to himself, that had he not threatened the boy, Prime would have engaged in such a suicidal attack. Did Prime realize he was going to die? Megatron shook his head at the ludicrous thought. It mattered little and changed nothing. He knew the fool well enough to know that he would have flung himself head long into the fray to save the human. Prime would have had to violate his own sense of justice otherwise, and that, for the Autobot, anyway, was inexcusable.

It was regrettable that the Autobot was not aligned with him. Megatron had not seen such a savage fight, or such a resolve to kill in the most brutal of Decepticons. It had sent a thrill of fear through him, to watch the human scamper away. Megatron had watched the boy bolt into the undergrowth like a terrified rabbit. His presence was little more than an afterthought, an irritation. The boy could have easily been rounded up and slain, or spared to be tortured, it mattered little at the time.

Megatron was shrewd enough to realize that Prime would not kill without extreme provocation. The threat against the boy was not an idle one, but it did provide the perfect ruse for the slaughter.

His facial gears _slid_ into a smirk.

_It was so beautiful, and so very brittle, the way the ending finally came. Megatron had always thought his own ending would come from Prime's cannons, or at least from Prime's orders. They had a brutally predictable symbiotic bond, a savage balance of attack and retribution. Prime may have preferred to consider it a fight against injustice, but Megatron merely considered it to be an established order, a target, a reason. _

_There was something gratifying at seeing Prime still standing after being ravaged by Starscream's wasp-like attack from the air. The stench of energon, the slow trickle of it from his wounds, it was almost intoxicating. And yet, Prime did not flinch, or even pause as he pivoted sharply to face them all._

"_You'll never stop at one." His voice rolled like thunder over the torpor, as he lowered his facial shield in preparation. Prime paused and gave them all a scathing glance, or a chance to run. To Megatron's disgust, Starscream had wheeled away out of sight, and the broken corpses of two Dececpticons lay in broken pieces over the forest floor. And even as they were rising to fall down on Optimus like a tidal wave, the Autobot showed no fear._

_Megatron was not sure what he was expecting, but it was certainly not the horrific sight of Optimus summoning those flame-tinged blades. They emerged from his braces, unfurling like wings. Optimus brandished them, raising them skyward in hideous promise, and then lowering them to the ground as he crouched to a defensive position._

_There was the long moment of cruel hesitation, of the standstill. Optimus tilted his head, clearly looking for the boy. It was infuriating to see that he was now facing the armada of Decepticons, and was more concerned about locating the human than the threat of his enemies. Megatron's scowl deepened. It would have been out of character for Optimus to strike the first blow._

_And now, Optimus stood resolute, and so alone. They had surrounded him, their cannons and guns and lasers raised and ready to kill. And yet, the Autobot showed no fear of the outcome, or even acknowledgement that he was going to suffer and die at the hands of his enemies._

_Did Optimus Prime know he was about to die? The fleeting question was troubling to Megatron when he saw Prime's blue optics shimmer as he stared at Meagtron. Megatron attempted a faltering sneer and looked away. _

"_I'll take you *all* on!" _

_It was a snarled promise, lingering in the air, as Megatron could only watch, stunned. Optimus whirled, thrust the blade forth, sliced into one of them, and let the body fall without even stopping to acknowledge the kill. The corpse of the severed Decepticon was flung away like unwanted trash._

_Megatron bellowed the order for the attack. They were circling now, emboldened. Optimus seemed oblivious to his own wounds, too preoccupied with ending the fight and saving the human to realize his own peril._

_The sound alone was hellish to hear. There was the explosions of cannons, the blasts rippling through the air, trees splintering, Decepticons fragmenting under Prime's onslaught. Prime had severed one of them in half, and had sent the remains cartwheeling through the air. The forest floor was soon littered with the dismembered parts of the Decepticons, as they were literally cut to pieces, and left where they fell._

_Megatron had lingered backwards from the fray, not wishing to risk his life or his chances by being in range of Optimus. He took advantage of the chaos to scout out the undergrowth, and find the boy at last. _

_His sensors picked up the human's tensing breath, the quiver of muscles in terror, and then the futile dash from the flimsy concealment of the fallen trees into the thicker cover over the ridge. The boy hastily scrambled over the small bluff, and dove downward, cowering against the ridge's side, panting, and waiting._

_Megatron smirked as he blasted the ridge with a liberal shower of fire. The boy must have been burned by the aftermath, because he detected the shrill cry of pain. _

_From that sudden halting, and that desperate way that Optimus spun to look for him, he heard it, too. Optimus gave the woods a tortured glance._

"_Sam! Where are you?" It was almost a desperate plea, and the perfect chance._

_Starscream's shadow was silently gliding over the vegetation, his leer and smug glance to Megatron infuriating. There was no time for Megatron to bellow the demand that he have the killing blow. _

_Starscream's cannon shot blindsided Optimus. The collision of fire and metal resulted in the first gaping wound to Optimus's torso. Optimus staggered from the sudden blow, and the almost unbearable pain. He twisted, arched a blade high, and drove it downward into the unlucky target. Starscream had shot away, rolled into a dive, and came hurtling back. The Autobot was heedless as he plunged his blade through the cranium of another Decepticon. Indeed, the Autobot was hacking his enemies to pieces so fast, it was like watching a tornado colliding and dismantling everything in its grasp._

_Megatron recoiled when he saw his ranks falling and dying in rapid succession. Starscream had arched skyward, paused to unroll his most powerful weaponry. Megatron watched as Starscream suddenly arched low, and hurled himself to earth again. He dove downward, engines flaring, a bright arch of light and then the sudden roar of tearing metal and a huge flare of sparks._

_Megatron watched as the blast clawed through Optimus, and sent some of his gears flying skyward. The Autobot had been dealt a mortal wound. He had been essentially disemboweled, his neural pathways exposed and leaking energon, the gaping, smoking hole in the center of his chest, showing the heaving, dying systems._

_Optimus did not stop to acknowledge the pain. He couldn't. He staggered forward, the earth tilting erratically, the shards of cackles leeching into his faltering senses. Megatron smirked at the uncharacteristic lurch, the titanic effort it took Prime to even stay upright. He was swaying, crippled, struggling to stay upright. Megatron took the chance to deal him a shattering blow to the face. His helm splintered, revealing the silver facial features, naked and contorted from the pain. Megatron gaped at the sight._

_The Autobot was still continuing his futile search for the human, and waging the fight. Megatron snarled, and rose behind him. _

_It was such a savage, and simple thing, in the end. It was only a matter of unrolling his cannon, relishing the sudden surge of perverse triumph as he languidly shoved the metal rim into Optimus's back._

_The Autobot shuddered at the tortured realization, and Megatron savored the wounded, broken heave of denial._

"_No….." It was breathed as softly as a prayer, as Prime tried to twist away, tried to halt the dying, tried anything to avoid being gutted by the cannon._

_It was not enough, and over far too quickly for Megatron's preference. His cannon thundered, the blinding fire reaching skyward, engulfing the inches of distance between him and Optimus. The Autobot was consumed by the white heat that rose and fell in one wave. Megatron was shocked at the damage inflicted, and then thrilled. Optimus was impaled and writhing in the agony, his groping hands scraping futily against the cannon like a fish on a hook. Megatron tossed him skyward, and savored the anguished flailing._

_Smirking, Megatron threw Optimus back to the earth. The Autobot, now loosened from the cruel support that was holding him, stood for a brief moment. Megatron watched as the Autobot closed his eyes, and swayed. Optimus's legs buckled and he crumbled into the fall, plummeting to the earth like a hacked down tree. Optimus collided with the earth, the splintering crack of trees being crushed beneath him was as loud and sudden as gunfire._

_Megatron stood over him, wanting to have one last memory of Optimus's dying moments being consumed by him. He raised a foot, ready to crush Optimus's skull, should he rise._

_To his disbelief, Optimus lay, a bleeding, broken wreck. He heard the Autobot's choking breath, the sudden hiss of the last of his auxiliary systems grinding together and dying to a low hum. It would be the human equivalent of a last breath._

_The Autobot's last words were clenched and bitten out, a final plea to the human boy._

_The blue optics were dimming, the mouth twisted in the effort to speak. "Run, Sam…..ru-"_

_The word was abruptly severed, the exhortation heeded well. Sam broke into a frenzied dash through the woods, and into the protective ring of Autobots that had emerged in the last few minutes. _


	14. The Walking Wounded

Ironhide wearily rubbed his optics. It was a useless gesture, as it did nothing to minimize fatigue. Perhaps it was a strange habit he had absorbed from his contact with the humans, or maybe it was the only fitting thing left to do in the situation the Autobots now faced. The loss of Optimus had gradually, mercifully shifted from gaping wound, to dull ache. It was ever present, but grew more manageable with time. The Autobots were not conscripted with mandatory time allotments for grief, so perhaps it made them a bit more able to function, despite of everything.

The mantle of leadership had fallen to Ironhide as times continued their languid crawl The Autobots found themselves without direction, meaning, or even an answer. Everything seemed fractured beyond normalcy, and Ironhide realized anew how lost they truly were. Ironhide faltered in his attempts to cobble together some sort of plan for the survival of both the humans, and the Autobots. The Autobots accepted his decisions with no quibbling, or insubordination, which eased his burden, somewhat. Ironhide had always been a reserved observer, who patiently gathered information and left the decision making to Optimus. He only offered his opinion when asked, and only spoke when he noted something of importance that needed to be addressed. He was taciturn, diplomatic, and ill at ease with this new responsibility. His introverted nature had already made him distant to most of the Autobots. Now the glare of the humans had fallen around him, too. Still, Ironhide did command their respect and trust. His quiet, steadying presence brought some calm to the uncertainty. He was unflinching in his duties to protect them, just as he was before. And, despite his doubting nature, he rose above his fear, and proved to be very capable.

Lennox had been recognized as the unofficial human ambassador to the Autobots, largely due to his military credentials, and his ability to navigate both worlds. He loathed it, but accepted his duty like the soldier he was. Ironhide was extremely grateful that he did not have to address the numerous inquiries of the human government. He truly did not have the words, poise, or grace to reassure them of their survival now, and he could not lie. Few of the humans, outside the collaboration of NEST and the necessary officials even knew of their existence. It was a brutal mercy that most of the humans were largely unaware, or indifferent to the death of Optimus. Ironhide did not know how he would handle mass panic if the humans figured out how deadly the Decepticons had grown.

Ironhide had reorganized the Autobots to shore up their last defenses, maintain vigilance, and give them some purpose or distraction from how dire their situation had become. Bumblebee resumed his scouting missions, Ratchet kept himself preoccupied with updating his medical skills, and the rest of them fell into the new routines with little resistance.

Tonight was a placid night, serene, and still, the sky empty, and the Hangar quiet. Ironhide was quietly musing about tomorrow's duties in the company of Lennox, who had the rare night off. They had grown comfortably familiar with each other enough to not be burdened with trite conversation. Lennox was careful to avert his gaze from open scrutiny, but it was clear that Ironhide was troubled. Taking a sip of his drink, Lennox raised an eyebrow, and tried to keep his tone light, and casual.

"Something on your mind, Ironhide?"

The obsidian face tilted towards Lennox in acknowledgement. In the gloaming dark, Ironhide's glowing optics were the only feature that could be clearly seen. Pensively, the Autobot finally answered after a long moment, "Yes, Major Lennox. There is."

Lennox waited silently for the Autobot to continue, as Ironhide paused to gather his thoughts. "The death of Optimus has been a devastating loss for us all."

Lennox flinched at the unexpected answer, before he fumbled through what he hoped was the kindest response. "Well, yeah. Optimus was a friend to all of us, Ironhide. The Autobots aren't the only ones who are affected by it."

There was another uneasy sigh as Ironhide shook his head. "I hope this does not sound callous, Major Lennox, but I was not just speaking in terms of losing a friend. Optimus was the only one of us who had the capability of taking on the Decepticons."

Lennox narrowed his eyes at the implication, as he shook his head, disbelieving. "What do you mean, Ironhide? I've seen the damage you can do with your cannons. You really think you couldn't blast a few of them into smithereens, if you had to?"

The Autobot's facial gears shifted in frustration. "Major Lennox, Optimus was not the only Autobot lost. Our ranks are decimated and we do not have the firepower, or the capability to wage a war against the Decepticons. When they mount their attack, we will only be able to defend ourselves long enough to delay the eventual ending. We cannot fight the Decepticons, and we cannot save _you._"

The words were heavy with sad understanding. Lennox hissed in breath, as he let the disbelieving horror curl in his gut and come to rest. Summoning his crumbling reserve of detachment, he only crossed his arms. It was an empty gesture of defiance.

"We are at their mercy, Major Lennox, and it's only a matter of time before they resume their attacks. I am honestly surprised that Megatron has halted his barrage for this long."

Lennox sighed. "So what do we do now, Ironhide? We can't just sit back and die."

"I've sent Bumblebee out to scout out the Decepticons where they are. They should still be scattered. We should be able to thin out their ranks by picking them off individually."

Lennox scowled up at him, confused. "If they're not capable of working together, how in the hell did they take Optimus out?"

Ironhide grimly shook his head. "That was the savage frenzy of a pack of killers, not a coordinated attack. Megatron's own troops loathe him, but they are too cowardly to flee, or choose differently. He rules them by threat and fear. That was never the way of the Autobots."

Lennox rolled his eyes heavenward. "Thank God." He muttered.

Optimus lowered his helm, to shield the grimace of his facial gears. "The humans are our allies, and friends, but they could not withstand Megatron. Do you not yet know what he is capable of?"

Jet-fire's rebuke stung just as much as Optimus's realization of his words.

"I served under him, deceived as I was, and for however brief a time. I'll have ye know I'm very aware of what he's capable of! "

There was only silence as Optimus raised a placating hand. "Please accept my apologies. I was in no way attempting to negate what you have done. I do not consider you my enemy, Jet-fire."

There was only that bitter sigh, and that wrenching twist of Jet-fire's rusted appendages on his cane. Jetfire shut his eyes, and softly answered, "I know ye don't, lad. I know. And I thank ye for that."

Optimus looked at him with concern. "You seem troubled, Jetfire. Is there something on your mind?"

The old bot narrowed his optics, and stiffened. The words were almost snarled. "Lad, if ye had any idea of what I did under Megatron, you wouldn't even be toleratin' my existence. You'd kill me, and be quite justified in doin' it, too."

Optimus met the almost accusing stare, without flinching, or hesitation. "I told you that I do not consider you to be my enemy, Jetfire. I cannot force you to accept that."

Jetfire tilted his head, in disbelief. "It was my kind that put ye here! My kind that killed you! How could I be anything but your enemy?"

Guilt seared, memories wounded, absolution never came. Optimus's optics flared open wide at the statement, and he did not answer. He was too stricken by the sudden emotion to speak. Jetfire continued to stare at him, eyes burning with both a plea and an accusation, before he only shook his head with resignation, and tottered a few step's distance.

Jetfire's joints creaked as he turned away. "Who do ye think led the Decepticons to the Earth?"

Optimus' facial gears shifted in sudden, agonizing understanding. Jetfire's left shoulder joint hitched.

"I never _meant _for the bloody thing to happen, at all. I was just a Seeker, sent out to find a way to survive, and help my kind live on. That's what I intended to do, lad. That was _all _I ever intended to do."

Optimus finally spoke, sadly. "How many Autobots have you slain, Jetfire?"

Jetfire shuddered at the question, the anguish and hatred flaring forth like a brand.

"I killed none of your kind! I was a bloody Seeker, not a killer!"

Optimus only looked down at his joints, let them slide into instinctive fists, fighting the urge to call forth his hellish blades and ask the Seeker how much Decepticon energon had been spilled on them.

Optimus never spoke of the sickening tally, of the number of enemies that had fallen at his hand. He was praised for his slaughter as a heroic savior. He was lauded for his justice, and trusted for his mercy. He had never took an innocent life, or a human one. And he had let far more Decepticons live than were truly worthy of the chance.

Even his kills, when necessary, were swift. Optimus could not promise any mercy to any of them, but he could never indulge in the drawn-out torture he had been subjected to. Inflicting so much agony on anyone, or anything was just beneath him. It was an insult to his sense of justice, and a strange violation to his empathy. Killing an enemy who would happily butcher innocents was a necessary thing, a right thing. But it was never an easy one.

The taking of a life was the one thing that Optimus hoped he never got used to. He was far more haunted by the savage necessity than the worthless guilt. They had made their choices, proven their tortured path of inflicting anguish on so many, time and time again. Somewhere down that brutal path, the ending had to come. Optimus only hoped that his loved ones would exit the world far more gently than he had left it.


	15. A Sliver of Light

_Author's note: I apologize, but I had to use the cheap plot device of a dream sequence. Sam is the one having the nightmare here._

_The carcasses were interwoven with each other, forming a grotesque halo that encircled him. Sam could only gape at the overwhelming ache of too much sensation and no time to understand what the hell was happening to him. Sam wheeled into a desperate, spinning pivot, trying to find a way out of this place. The corpses' limbs were all laced together, clutching each other, their foreheads bowed to form the ceiling, their eyes shut forever and so very, hellishly serene. He clapped a hand over his quivering jaw, the shrill, animalistic whine clawing the very air and echoing off the sepia hues. His voice rippled like thunder through the tomb, the echo fragmenting back to the ground, as if he were the last living thing on earth._

_He started quivering at the terrible thought. _

_Blindly, he lurched backwards, and stiffened in horror when he felt the cold, torpid metal, lacing ice into his palms, as his human hand slid uncomprehending over the dead Transformer's ancestor. Fingers splayed across the alien skull, groped for an answer, shut with a plea. He clapped his hand over his mouth, sickened and trembling as he stood in the middle of the tomb, where he could see the last bit of light falling in slivers over the gleam of ancient metal. The light flickered out, the last bit of breath from his lungs was choked out in the wailing invocation. The last grunt was strangled out as he crumbled._

_He slithered downward, felt the sting of the sand in his eyes, the overwhelming loss of everything he knew crashing down like a tidal wave as Sam clutched the handfuls of sand. He heard the cackle of metallic laughter, the horribly familiar sound of gears shifting into transformation, and the gleeful voice of Megatron._

_Sam gaped skyward, as the Decepticon loomed over him like a mountain, his facial gears twisted in an eerie smirk as he only tilted his head to the side, and lowered his canon to fire._

_Sam scuttled backward, as the Decepticon raised the cannon to the gloaming sky, and fired. The entire sky seemed ablaze, the reverberation from the sound wave deafening, as Sam clapped hands over his ears and saw the world itself burning. The cannon was lowered, as Megatron raised and brought his foot crashing down on Sam. Gleefully, he felt the human bones straining against the crushing weight, the panicked heave of breath, the eyes huge and fearful. Sam choked against the heavy pressure, and winced when he felt his ribs giving way.. Megatron's optics narrowed in hideous promise, as he cackled and continued the torture. The massive metal foot continued its strangling grind, as he felt the bones groan and bend, and then snap as Sam screamed until his chest was too crushed to heave another breath. _

_And, suddenly, he heard the feral snarl of Megatron,who raised his foot and stomped the earth inches from his head. Sam shuddered, and rolled into a dodge, scuttling away from the danger on hands and knees. _

_Dubiously, Sam stared to see what had halted Megatron from killing him and froze in shock._

"_Optimus!"_

_Sam's disbelieving joy at seeing his friend was shattered when the Autobot turned towards him. Sam clapped a hand over his mouth to see the mutilated features, the abysmal hole where the familiar blue optic should have been. It was the shattered wreck that Megatron had ravaged in Optimus's last moments._

"_Do not fear, Sam." The voice was calm, and soothing, as Optimus knelt down to face him._

"_I will keep you safe." Sam swallowed back the tears as he nodded._

"_I know, Optimus. You died keeping me safe!"_

_Optimus's wrecked facial gears twisted in sorrow, but he did not answer. It was a surreal moment to be facing his killer again. Megatron's optics flare wide in disbelief, and he faltered in hoisting his cannon. The Decepticon was clearly at a loss at the logic of shooting his newly resurrected enemy, who still bore the same mortal wounds._

_Optimus resolutely pivoted in front of Sam, once again becoming the shield, and the fortress. Sam flung his mouth open, the heated objection dying as Optimus continued his eerie, silent vigil. Megatron halted the attack, perplexed as Optimus merely shook his head._

"_You will not harm the boy, Megatron." _

_It was spoken as an irrevocable order to be obeyed, not the vanquished victim still at the mercy of the conqueror. Megatron snarled and stupidly lunged only to be hurled backwards with such force that he nearly toppled. The echo of metal against metal sounded like an anvil being struck, the very air vibrating with the impact of the strike._

_Sam could not stop the gleeful smirk as he peeked out from behind Optimus._

_Dismayed, Megatron stared dumbly at Optimus's curled fist, and the ache from the blow reverberating through his cranium._

"_Megatron, you will not harm the boy." Optimus's voice was low, the rage shimmering almost unseen as he hoisted the battered shaft of his cannon into battle position. The thing creaked into place, the gears squealing in protest, but Megatron's optics flared wide as he scuttled away in the attempt to distance himself from the firing range._

_Megatron's brittle chuckle was like broken glass._

"_Does saving the boy ease your guilt over betraying your own kind, Optimus? Surely one human life is a small price to pay for the continuation of our species. Would you condemn us all to your fate to save these….weakings?"_

"_You seek to destroy all, Megatron. And that is not something I will permit." _

_There was only the fragmented silence as Megatron only raised his cannon, locked into place, and gave Sam a gleeful smirk. Optimus merely narrowed his eyes, and tilted his head._

"_You will not harm the boy, Megatron. I warn you." It was quiet, and ominous as a gathering storm. Megatron squinted at the threat, and sneered out, "I will keep my word on that, Prime. I will not harm the boy at all. I'll kill him."_

_And with those words, he simply dodged Optimus's crushing blow and fired at world exploded into flame, the sky was burning down, he stared down at his flesh and saw it consumed, the flesh waxing into pools over seared bone, before the wind caught the wafting ashes that remained, and tossed them skyward._

_Dust. Shadows, long scrapes of light fragmenting into sepia, and then refracting back into endless contortions. Sam should have been nothing more than a pile of ash. He should have been burned beyond recognition, and could not decipher his terror or his elation at somehow remaining alive after Megatron's blast._

_Sand under his hands. Golden light pooling around him, a wave of peace and a calming voice gently rousing him from his torpor. Sam's eyes shot open and he winced with a groan at the achingly bright shards of sunlight. Shaking his head, he propped himself up on his quivering elbows, dragged a hand over his heaving tee-shirt to make sure that his guts were safely intact and in their normal place. There was no burns, no disembowelment from the cannon. If it wasn't real, then what the hell was happening? Sam forced his eyes open and clutched a shaking hand to his throbbing skull. When clarity came roaring back, it felt like a blow as he stared in awe and found himself in the presence of the gods. _

_Eyes bulging, he backpedaled and craned his neck skyward to see the Primes, peering down at him with compassion brewing in their ageless eyes. They were not the horrible tangle of corpses, but each one a deity bathed in the holy light beyond the world, whole, healed, and immortal. _

"_Um…."He faltered, and cringed at the stupid sound of his voice, as he only span in a circle and another dumb attempt to understand what had transpired. _

"_Be at peace, human child, we mean you no harm." The voice, collective and yet solitary rumbled up from the depths of the temple, ageless and patient. Sam could only nod at that._

"_Human child, we seek your aid in resurrecting our brother, Optimus Prime. We do not have long."_

_Sam swallowed hard, trembling, as he shook his head, the grief rising again, and the guilt twisting in his gut like an animal._

"_Optimus..he's dead." The words were like choking on rocks, as Sam only waited for the holy ones to strike him dead for his role in the death of Optimus. _

"_Human child, Optimus Prime is not lost to you…or to us. Restore him to life, and save yourselves, lest our sacrifice be in vain."_

_A brittle sigh of anguish, as Sam's voice rang out, sounding so puny and weak, "How? If you guys can't bring him back,what in the hell can I do?"_

_There was no answer but a shimmer of something falling like a star from the heavens. Sam squinted at the glittering thing that span in elegant spirals, and slowly came to rest at his feet. He gasped. The thing was a silver structure, with two bladed wings spiraling outward, and a glowing sapphire that throbbed with light. Same stared at it, transfixed and stricken. Finally wrenching his eyes away from the glow, he asked, "That's pretty, but what is it?"_

_The serenity and the loss were indescribable in their voices. "For us, it was death, but to you, it is salvation."_

_Meanwhile, with Jetfire and Prime-_

"I killed none of your kind! I was a bloody Seeker, not a killer!"

Jetfire's words were flung out with venom before Optimus could stop the minute shudder that rippled through his frame. The Autobot said nothing in the long alien silence, as he cupped a hand to his helm and ground a fist against his forehead. There was only the long, troubled silence as Jetfire tried to control the rattling from his tremble, and Optimus only stood with bowed head, turned away.

"Jetfire, I _have_killed Decepticons. It was always as a last resort, and never without sorrow. But I am Prime, and it was my duty to protect those whom I serve. I hope that you will at last believe me when I say this, Jetfire-" Optimus turned towards him, and gave him a searing, wounded gaze.

"In magnitude, there is absolutely no act you could have committed that rivals the killing of another."

Jetfire's optics narrowed with sudden, vicious understanding. Sighing, he wearily shook his head, and lurched closer to Optimus, until they were inches apart. Optimus's optics widened as Jetfire bitterly hitched a shoulder, the squeal of metal slicing through the short distance between them.

"It's a bloody shame that such good intentions have such horrible outcomes. No, I've never killed a living thing with my own cannons. But, indirectly, I've doomed an entire planet. You've spilled the energon of some of my fellow Decepticons, that I knew and fought with. I knew them in ways ye never can, so believe me when I tell ye this, lad. Ya did the Autobots,and the humans a favor. There was nothing else to be done for any of 'em, leastways you wanted them to continue their slaughter."

Optimus could not stop the involuntary flinch, as he stared at Jetfire, too stricken to speak. Jetfire only gave a small, choking laugh that fragmented like breaking glass over the walls.

"They left ye no choice, lad. Understand that. Do ye think Megatron troubled himself with the thought that he was knowingly sending his own soldiers to their deaths against ye? He thought no more of their lives being lost than he would think of squashin' an insect. Believe me when I tell ye this-death for a Decepticon serving under Megatron is a mercy."

Optimus scowled at that, the true horror behind the words warring with Jetfire's certain, level stare.

"As depraved as Megatron's leadership may be, I find it doubtful that any Decepticon would prefer death to serving under him, Jetfire."

Jetfire's reply was soft, and held a note of deep sadness. "He doesn't earn their loyalty, he keeps them in line with the threat of torture on a scale that makes my neural connections run bloody cold. Believe me, after seeing one or two of the unfortunate ones who've run afoul of him being punished, ye do anything to avoid his wrath. It wasn't just hatred of your kind that drives them to kill. It's fear of _him."_

Optimus fell silent again, deeply troubled by both the implication, and the small, wrong sense of empathy. His hand slid unnoticed over his torso, and came to rest where the mortal wound had been. Lingering there, the memories searing through his circuits, Optimus remembered being gutted like an animal, the slow, tortured surrender, the horror of being disemboweled and Megatron's cackle at his agony.

Megatron's soldiers may have not brought him down in a savage frenzy of animalistic glee. They may have killed him to avoid unspeakable suffering at his hands. Optimus felt the surge of rage flood his neural pathways with the potency of a volcano.


	16. A Chance of Redemption

Jetfire inwardly cringed at the now familiar, troubled silence that had fallen again. Jetfire saw Optimus shudder, and then go rigidly still in brooding contemplation after he had so foolishly divulged Megatron's method of ensuring obedience. Jetfire knew that he had somehow triggered a deep onslaught of turmoil for the Autobot, but was at a loss as to know what was wrong. Optimus's hand was still curled over his unmarred torso, as if trying to stop the non-existent wound from spilling over his clenched fingers anew.

There was only the soft, curt sigh of sadness, of anger, and unspeakable thoughts as Optimus narrowed his optics. The fist over his chest plate slid to his side, and tightened as the words came, soft, and bitter, "If they were merely following orders, then why did they laugh as they continued their slaughter of me, Jetfire?"

The old bot recoiled in a spasm of memory, and viciousness, as he snarled, "Were ye truly expectin' anything less? They didn't just kill ye, they broke ye down, bit by tortured bit, for no reason other than ye were trying to protect a fleshing boy."

The words were broken off when Jetfire saw the agony flicker on Prime's face. Quivering, Optimus finally spoke, "Do you truly believe that I am not aware of that? That I'd be so foolish as to challenge Megatron, and take a gamble on his _mercy?_If he was willing to slaughter a defenseless human child to spite me, what choice did I have to but to avert it, regardless of the cost? There was always a price to be paid, Jetfire, especially for a Prime. In the end, the only question was how much. The answer, sadly, is that for Megatron, it will never be enough."

Jetfire swallowed back the retort, or the rebuke, the words twisting against his clenched and rusted mandibles. To say any more would have been cruel, the act of a Decepticon. Jetfire slid a trembling digit over the faded Decepticon mark on his wingblade, let it trace over the numerous scars where he had tried to carve it out of existence. He honestly never wanted the damn thing, not after seeing, too late, the truth. The tragic, innocent choice he had made, with the best of intentions-to save his kind, to salvage the energon that gave them life, had somehow crumbled with his mad dash out of their existence when he came to the small planet. An old, loathed life, severed, only after a few moments of consideration. It was an easy decision to simply never go back. And it was the one decision he had made that had damned them all.

_He had streaked across the galaxy, erratically, whirling between nebulas, hiding behind dark moons, arching across the cosmos like a scared rabbit. Darkness, silence, an empty abyss of uncluttered black only punctuated by the bloated starlight as he flew closer to the trace of Energon. It was only a flicker, a pulse of sensation that graced his neural pathways, a mere blip on his sensors as the cerulean planet, swirled with clouds, rolled into view. Unfurling his fuel thrusters, he blazed through the thin atmosphere, and lingered for a wary moment over the strange, sepia sand._

_And suddenly, his sensors were seared with the vicious, painful awareness that they had detected sentient life, along with the minute traces of energon._

_His sensors scanned the infinite number of humans, crawling across his shattered hope like ants, and wounding him even more deeply when he realized the magnitude of how much life this planet had. Even if they were unknown, could he bear the responsibility for ending their existence?_

_No. The realization was as sudden as it was final._

_A shaking breath, as his hand palmed the Decepticon label that they had branded him with. Even as he screamed his denials that ended with his pleas, they had carved it into him with the diamond hard edge awareness that he was now one of them. A snarl gracing the gentleness, as his optics swept upward to the black emptiness he had just emerged from. A bitter shake of his head when he pondered what he had to go back to, and how little it mattered to him. And a rising hope that he now had the chance to leave what he hated safely secured in the distance he had put between them. Scars, and anguish, inflicted for no purpose than breaking, and forcing obedience. Fear once accepted as reality, and torture being the veiled threat under every misplaced implication._

_Jetfire realized dubiously, he had found a home, and an escape. It was a painful evisceration to literally severe the sensors that would allow them to track him. In removing them, he had crippled himself. The scars ran deep where he had hacked out the neural transistors that could send his location across the galaxy. He had severed some of his motion tendons, and would now forever walk with a lurch. But, as he blasted the final sensor out of existence with his own cannon, he felt unshackled, and cleansed._

_The years, and eons slid by, as he continued his languid existence, pondering the infinities of the unanswerable, and always watching with wary eyes for the arrival of one of his own. Thank Primus they never did._

_Until now, in the presence of the Primes. Optimus was still laying there, serene, and mercifully unaware of what was now transpiring. _

_Jetfire was quaking with the fear of a sinner facing the final judgment when he felt the weight of the Primes' infinite gaze. He was awaiting his punishment for his treachery, feeling the hideous weight of what he had done following him in shackles of anguish, and finally leaving him to this miserable ending. An eternal evisceration from them would be alright, if the punishment was enough to vanquish the agony of unwitting betrayal._

_The Primes were silent as they watched him, neither calling down the cleansing fire to finally wipe existence clean of his taint, nor offering any sort of forgiveness. It was the silence of infinite, maddening patience that felt tangible and heavy as boulders on his bowed and quaking neck._

_He had been found, and summoned to this lonely place of isolated sand, and forgotten sacrifice. He had freely come, with no motivation other than absolution. He had nothing to offer but an apology. He did not know if they would slay him. And, even if that were the final outcome, it would be a cheap price to pay considering the alternatives of living as a broken wreck, or Megatron's vessel._

_Finally, the torpor was abruptly shattered when They spoke in one voice, that rippled through their resting place like thunder._

"_Seeker, come forth. We mean you no harm."_

_The words were oddly gentle and soothing, as Jetfire winced, the compassion all the more vicious to endure. Hatred, rage, punishment, this was what he expected, this was what he had known under the hands of his former captors. Grimly, Jetfire rose from his cringing, his optics narrowed and wary as he finally dredged enough courage up to meet their ageless eyes._

"_Ye asked me before if I was willin' to help save 'em all, the Autobots, and the humans. I'm still willin. What do I need to do?"_

_There was only silence again, as the Primes resumed their gentle scrutiny. "Do not speak lightly of the burden you will carry on their behalf, Jetfire. The sacrifice will be great, and the price you pay may cost you your life."_

_A brittle sigh, as his rusted joints hitched in protest at his shrug. "It can't be as hard as livin' with what I've lived with for this long. My life's a little price to pay to make this right. I'm old, already past anything worth stickin' round this dirty lil planet for, and I've not got a whole lot to show for it. "_

_The Primes seemed to deliberate his words. Jetfire could sense the waves of thought between them, rippling like water over stone, and sliding back into the quiet as they finally tilted their heads down to face him again._

"_You must return to the Earth, and tell the human child of the Matrix. Only then will Optimus Prime be able to return, and end this."_

_The old bot started quaking at the unbelievable edict, and the impossibilities of all of it. The weight of anguished necessity, and frail inability were equally torturous to bear as he finally hitched his shoulders, as if he could shrug it all off in acceptance._

"_How will the fleshling find me, then? And what am I do to?"_

_The Primes answered as one, in strong, but compassionate reassurance. " Remain in stasis, and rest until the time comes for all to be revealed. The human child will find you. Do not seek him out, lest the Decepticons become alerted to your presence and destroy you. Tell him of the Matrix, and Optimus may yet return to their world."_

_Jetfire glanced uncertainly at Optimus, who still lay serenely still, and mercifully unaware of what was now transpiring. _

"_I don't understand this…any of this. But, I'll do it. I give my word on that."_

_There was a wry warmth as the Primes answered, "We would not be releasing you back to the earth if we doubted your intentions, Seeker."_

_The golden air was already starting to disintegrate into the pearled dust of starlight, and the sepia tomb was fading fast. Jetfire felt the vortex gently swirling over him, the darkness encroaching the light, the resolve burning through his neural pathways, the wink of the fragmented flash as he felt, once more, the alien polished tile beneath his feet. _

_Eying the new surroundings, he stared in disbelief at the airplanes, suspended in flightless stasis, the old, proud military machines, cordoned off behind the placards and velvet ropes. A military museum, in Primus knew where. Jetfire grunted with the effort of forcing his rusted parts into a semblance of the flying machine he used to be. It took a cacophony of metal shrieking, and gears being manipulated in ways they had not been bent in a very long time, but he finally completed the transformation. A quick scan with his faulty sensors showed no trace of witnesses. Stasis completed, Jetfire dubiously settled down for some much needed rest, and waiting._


	17. Possibility

Lennox and Ironhide exchanged dubious glances when Sam paused, and drew a long, troubled breath from his frantic account of the dream. Sam swallowed hard, and looked up at them, uncertainly, waiting.

"Ironhide….is this Matrix thing real, or am I going crazy?"

Ironhide was silently gathering his thoughts to answer, his facial gears arching sharply downward. Sam didn't think that was a good sign at all.

Lennox's eyebrows climbed higher and higher, and he bit his lip throughout the weird rant to keep back the laughter he knew would be cruel. Clearly, the kid was out of his head with the kooky ideas, but Lennox wasn't sure it wasn't a reasonable reaction. The kid had seen Optimus die, and had nearly been slaughtered himself. Lennox didn't know how in the hell he would contend with that. He was grateful that he didn't have to. Shrugging, Lennox sighed, and finally ventured a thought.

"Look, kid, you've been through a hell of a lot. I'm not saying that your dream didn't seem real, but it does seem a bit crazy, don't you think?" It was as gently worded as Lennox could say it. Sam met his eyes, and then ducked his head, ashamed. Hitching his shoulders into the defeated shrug, he muttered, "Yeah, you're right…..it is crazy."

"Perhaps not." Ironhide said quietly, as he narrowed his optics. Sam and Lennox both turned to him in surprise. "Huh?" Ironhide did not respond to Sam's grunt of inarticulate confusion, and was too well-mannered to correct the boy.

Pensively, the Autobot stared down at the humans. "Sam, has Bumblebee, or any of the other Autobots shared with you any tales of the Matrix of Leadership?"

Sam sighed, and shook his head. "Um, no."

Ironhide tapped the image projector mechanism beside his optic. It was faint as starlight, and nearly flickering out of existence, but the image of the Matrix still radiated. Ironhide held the image out towards the humans for better viewing. "Is this what you saw in your dream, Sam?"

Sam gulped, eyes widening. "Yes…"

Another swallow of disbelief, and a scared flicker towards Ironhide. "It is real, then, isn't it? The Matrix?"

Ironhide gave him the first real smile that Sam had seen in a very long time. "Yes, Sam. It is very real."

Lennox blinked at the pretty image as it disappeared when Ironhide clicked the projector back into place. "Ironhide? Do you mind filling me in on what just happened?"

Ironhide's optics flared wide as he curtly answered, "It is as the Primes told you. Our salvation. Or, our destruction, if it falls into Decepticon hands."

Ironhide was halted from rising, by Sam's hand. Surprised, the Autobot waited for Sam to speak.

"Ironhide, what does this have to do with me and Optimus? Is this matrix thing the reason why Optimus is dead now?" The question was brutal, and Sam's eyes were silently pleading for any answer.

Uneasily, Ironhide lowered himself to meet Sam's eyes. He was still unaccustomed to this human idea of unearned guilt, and it was difficult for him to assuage. He lay an enormous hand over the quivering shoulder and felt the tremble. His neural sensors were nearly screaming from the depth of emotion radiating from the human boy.

"Sam, Optimus died because the Decepticons murdered him. That event, while tragic, was unpreventable, and therefore, completely out of your control. If it were in your power to stop it from happening, you would have. As would we all. As for the Matrix of Leadership..." he paused, and then attempted a faltering explanation that the humans might understand. "It is an artifact that holds immense power, and therefore, only entrusted to those who show themselves worthy of it. The Primes called it their sacrifice, because they died concealing its location from those who would wield its power to do harm. "

Lennox raised an eyebrow. "And what exactly does this matrix thing do?"

Ironhide grimly answered, "It is what is used to strip planets of their energon, Captain Lennox…a process that would wipe out all sentient life, including humans. That is why we Autobots are forbidden to utilize its power in such a manner. We cannot kill one species to save ours."

Lennox scowled. "Ironhide…..is that Matrix thing on our planet now? Can the Decepticons find it and use it?"

Ironhide uneasily met their eyes. "Captain Lennox, the Primes sealed away the Matrix on this planet to keep it from falling into Decepticon hands. I don't like to speculate on the nature of dreams, but Sam had no knowledge of any of this from any Autobot before this. Unfortunately, we do not know the location of the Primes's graveyard. However, the Decepticons cannot find it, either."

Lennox nodded with a grimace. Sam scrubbed a hand through his curls. "The Primes told me to restore Optimus to life, and this Matrix thing could save us, Ironhide. Can the Matrix do that?"

Ironhide pivoted sharply, the facial gears twisting into an unreadable expression. Softly, he answered, "It has been said the Matrix has the power to resurrect the dead."

Lennox's jaw dropped. "Why in the hell haven't you guys mentioned this sort of thing to us, Ironhide? "

Ironhide's optics narrowed and then flickered bright at the rebuke. His voice was still regally polite, but the anger at the accusation burned like an undercurrent beneath the chilled answer.

"Captain Lennox,until Sam spoke of this, the possibility of the Matrix existing on this planet had not even crossed my mind. You will forgive me if I was preoccupied with both the loss of Optimus, and the duty of ensuring that nobody else-human, or Autobot- dies from another Decepticon attack. "

Ironhide wearily shuttered his optics, and Lennox had the grace to look ashamed. Ironhide had always been unobtrusive, silently protective, and able to perform his duties without drawing any attention to just how much sacrifice was involved. He shared that facet with Optimus. Ironhide had probably recoiled at taking on the task of keeping his teammates alive and whole, especially when grappling with his own loss, and uncertainty. But, the Autobot had taken it on, and was doing it well. Lennox knew that no other Autobots or humans had been slain. That would have not been possible without Ironhide.

"I'm sorry, Ironhide. I know you're pulling double duty, and you're doing a damn good job at it."

The praise seemed to embarrass the Autobot even more than the apology. "Thank you, Captain Lennox. However, there are more important matters at hand. Sam."

Sam jumped at the abrupt mention of his name, as Ironhide finally sighed. "Sam, I know that there has been an unfair burden placed on you that you'd never have to bear if we had not intruded on your life. And, you have borne our presence here in a way that I can only consider as a friend. Did the Primes mention the location of the Matrix? Did your dream give you any idea of where it might be?"

Sam frowned, and shrugged. "There was a lot of sand, and sunlight. And a big room filled with the bodies of the Primes. That's all I saw."

"Ironhide, is there any possibility that there's somebody out there who knows where to find this Matrix thing, then? If this thing is on the planet, we need to find it before the Decepticons do. I don't think the Primes would have sent this sort of message if we weren't supposed to find it."

Ironhide grimly nodded with a tense smile at last. "At last, Captain Lennox, we have a plan."

"So, how do we find this Matrix then?"

Ironhide shook his head. "We cannot find the Matrix without finding the Tomb of the Primes. And in order to do this, we must find somebody who knows the location of the Tomb. "

"How? And who?" Lennox barked in frustration, as Sam only stared wide-eyed

Ironhide sighed without impatience. "Captain Lennox, before you engage in a military operation, you send forth scouts to survey the surroundings and ensure the safety of your troops. I do know that there were a few Seekers who volunteered to search out the galaxy for our new home. If any had the knowledge of the Primes, it would be one of them."

Lennox shook his head. "So, let me get this straight. Optimus can be brought back if we find the Matrix, which is hidden in the Tomb of your dead ancestors. We have to find this thing before the Decepticons do. And, the only way to find the Matrix is to find one of your ancestors who somehow crashlanded and survived this long, without being detected, and hope that they're on our side. Is that right?"

Ironhide concealed his amusement at the absurd possibilities well. "That is a very admirable summation of events, Captain Lennox."

"And how in the hell are we supposed to do this? This is impossible." Sam blurted out.

Ironhide turned to Sam. "Sam, what is impossible is damning my loved ones to the same fate as Optimus because I didn't do everything I could to keep them safe. The impossible has become possible,now. We can bring Optimus back."


	18. A Grain of Sand

It had been a Gordian knot of false promise, ludicrous hope, and overwhelming odds, when Ironhide emerged from the impromptu conference with the humans. Lennox watched as Ironhide politely, but abruptly excuse himself for some much needed time alone. He looked troubled, and hopeful as he retreated to the solitude of his chambers with the courteous invitation for the humans to please stay at the hangar, if they so wished.

He waited until he was safely concealed behind his chamber door, and he had blocked all detection from any sensors, before he slumped in exhaustion, and strain. His new,and unwanted responsibilities as leader were nearly unbearable at times. Though he was quiet, and distant, he was hardly remote from their suffering. He was now the trembling foundation of a crumbling, fractured recovery, cobbled together with agonizing uncertainty. None of them questioned his intentions, or his actions. The Autobots followed his orders that he offered as suggestions, and made sure he understood that his bravery, while quiet, and humble, was reliable, and needed.

Ironhide sighed,and focused his attention to the gnawing questions and the slender strands of hope he now attempted to weave into reality. He knew the mythology of the Matrix….the sacrifice of the Primes was a cherished legend that had been passed down from old bots to sparklings long before his existence. There was no way that Sam, or any other human could know of the Matrix, or the Primes unless told by a Transformer. Ironhide did not think that a Decepticon would trouble himself to converse with the humans about it. Clearly, the Decepticons didn't have the Matrix, or else Megatron would have flaunted the thing before the world, before he gleefully ended the world.

Ironhide scowled,thinking. The Autobots would have to find the Matrix, if only to delay the slaughter of the humans. The Matrix was somewhere on the Earth, either concealed by the Primes, or somehow still in their procession. The Decepticons already had plans to start harvesting the energon –an impossibility without the Matrix. He did not know if the Decepticons had located the Tomb of the Primes, and he was fearful of sending a fleet of Autobots forth to seek out the location. It would be a tragic ending for them all if they had delivered the Matrix, however unintentionally, to their enemies.

The vague idea had been gloaming on the edge of awareness, as Ironhide continued to carve away at the fruitless attempts for an answer. Unknown to all the Autobots, except Optimus, Ironhide had been secretly scouting the Earth in search of any of the Seekers that had been unleashed into the abyss so long ago. Optimus had been gently skeptical of his friend's idea, openly wondering why it was necessary, as any Seeker that had remained on the planet would surely announce his presence to the Autobots, or the Decepticons. It was one of the rare times that Ironhide felt that Optimus was being a bit short-sighted. Optimus took the mild, respectful rebuke with his usual grace, and allowed Ironhide search as he wished with no condition other than Ironhide report his results. At first, the searching had been absolutely fruitless, and yet another example of Ironhide's over-arching vigilance against an imaginary threat. Optimus never chided his trusted friend, however. While many had dismissed Ironhide as being paranoid, Optimus knew that Ironhide was often in tune with the minute currents that, when ignored long enough, could erupt into a deluge unexpectedly. Ironhide, though diplomatic, tactful, and self-effacing, also masked a core of steel beneath his soft-spoken demeanor. Level-headed, fiercely intelligent, distant and tactful, Ironhide never resorted to fiery tirades, insults, or bullying to get what he wanted. Ironhide had no tolerance, or need. Even Optimus found himself on the losing end of more than one of Ironhide's perfectly sound reasoning. The search itself, had been quite simple. Ironhide simply sent out a few of his discrete sensors to scan the earth for traces of used energon. It had only taken a bit of modifying to encode each of them with the identifying markers of the Autobots, and what traces he could find of the Decepticons. Even if no Seekers were found, it would be wise to monitor any Decepticon activity. He had set them loose on a bright day, and watched them streak across the sky in archs of silver light before their cloaking mechanism was activated, and they disappeared from his sight.

Ironhide found it disheartening that they had returned to him, reeking of Megatron's presence, and also noting that Optimus's energon had been spilled in fatal qualities, shortly after Optimus was already slain. The sensors had alerted them all of Optimus' danger, and it was how they had arrived as quickly as they had. It was particularly harrowing to know that Optimus was already injured, possibly dying. The loss of energon suggested massive wounds.

He had already organized the small armada to spring to their leader's defense even before they had detected the distress signal.

He knew, after seeing Optimus topple, and Megatron rising like a victorious god over their fallen leader with that gleeful cackle, that the wounds were fatal. His sensors had picked up the failing life support systems, as they heaved, and choked and continued breaking down. He heard their faltering grinding against each other, as Optimus finally crumbled into the dying sprawl. Ironhide heard the last plea for Sam's safety, and hurled onward, shielding Bumblebee as best he could from Optimus's fragments, and the Decepticon's firestorm.

It was that night that one of the sensors had returned, bearing traces of aged, and used energon that Ironhide could not identify as Decepticon or Autobot. Ironhide had left the thing locked in his chambers, after deducing that it held nothing that could hurt the Autobots. He had been too preoccupied to do much more than give it a troubled glance over the last few days. Now, in the quiet solitude of his chamber, he hesitantly removed the protective sheath, accessed the code that would allow him to view the sensor's information, and location. A strange fragment of something fell out of the small mechanism, and skittered across his palm, shimmering like a fallen star. Ironhide inhaled sharply at the realization that it was a grain of sand.

Activating his most powerful scan, he hastily scoured both the organic traces of the soil, and downloaded the images from the sensor. The blurred images crystalized into an azure sky, and a sepia world of jutting rocks. He scowled in disappointment. None of the rock formations were large enough to conceal anything larger than a rodent, let alone a Transformer. He continued his viewing, heartsick at the lost hope, and then halted when the last image flickered, revealing the huge slab of rock that towered over the vast expanse of emptiness. Breath quickening, Ironhide magnified the image of the rock's surface, and then compared it to the grain of sand. Both matched.


	19. The Shards from the Sky

It was a frustrating business, and a tantalizing possibility. Ironhide's facial gears twisted into a puzzled frown, as he began yet another, more scrutinizing scan. The Energon trace located was definitely that of a Transformer, but it did not belong to Optimus, and any known Decepticon. Each Transformer had his own unique Energon trace, much like a human fingerprint, and was a ready means of identification. What was frustrating about this particular sample was that while it was clearly from a Transformer of some sort, there was no means of identifying who. There was no trace that marked as being a Decepticon, or an Autobot, because it simply predated the fragmentation of his species. When this Energon sample was in use, there was only Transformers, and not the warring factions now.

Ironhide tilted his head in contemplation. An ancient, used trace of outdated Energon, languishing on a small, alien planet eons before any Autobot or Decepticon had laid a wheel on the earthen soil.

_A Seeker. Only a Seeker would have had the capability of surviving a scouting mission across the cosmos. And, only a _Seeker_ would be in the age range for when this particular type of Energon was actually in use. And only a Seeker would know where the Matrix currently resides. _

The grain of sand, magnified, had the same texture and material as the gigantic mound of stones that sat like a crown over a wearied head. The lonely monolith sat under the azure sky, isolated, and left unmarred by the sad march of time. It was a barren, forgotten place, a vast expanse of sand, and emptiness. It seemed insulting that his Ancestors had met such a tortured end with no witnesses but the sky, and each other. Was this mound of rock where the Primes had laid down their lives?

_Optimus, old friend, it is moments like this that I feel your absence so much more._

Ironhide forced the grief at bay, and focused his scrutiny on the more productive route of finding answers.

Clearly, the Seeker, if he still existed, had been on the planet much longer than any Autobot or Decepticon had previously assumed. Here, Ironhide paused again to deliberate. He felt with unflinching certainty, that the Tomb of the Primes had been found. Did the Primes die concealing the Matrix, or simply its whereabouts? It seemed to be a dubious leap of logic to assume that their deaths were unavoidable if the Matrix wasn't shielded from the world by their own corpses.

He knew that the Seekers were an elite group, educated and trained in the vast knowledge of the Autobot history-including how to use the Matrix.

Ironhide stared down at the bright, burning flicker of light as the grain of sand rolled in his palm.

Images flickered, like human thoughts through his optics, as he combed the data files that held the history of the human race in less than a minute. Fragments of an ancient myth, a stone carving on a cave wall, multiple accounts of strange creatures that came from the stars. Haphazardly flung to the bowels of time, such events, in themselves seemed to be random nonsense, old tales from primitive man's ignorant dreams.

_But, when arranged together, they form a cohesive account of where the Seeker may be._

Ironhide hesitated briefly, before running the simulated hologram that held the accounts of the beings from the stars.

_Primus, show mercy, please. _

With an almost timid click of his sensor, the brightly colored squares on the grid slid together into perfect symmetry. The scan's alerting lights and signal roared to life, flooding the grid with color,showing the location where the sand was found. The linear scope whirled, the lines crosshatching over the monolith's side, to an odd, hallowed out place, as if some rocks had been scooped by a giant hand.

Optics narrowing, Ironhide clicked on his communication intercom, signaling Lennox, Sam, and Bumblebee. When the humans chimed in, and the Autobot chirped an indication that he was listening, Ironhide quietly announced, "I am sorry for interrupting any communication, but I must ask you to come to the Hangar."

"Ironhide, everything okay?" Lennox was clearly puzzled by the barely contained glee in Ironhide's voice.

"All is well, Captain Lennox, but I will not risk leaking information over the communication system. The solution to our problem may have been found."

A disbelieving breath of trembling hope as Sam blurted out, "You mean that you found the-"

His voice was abruptly muffled, as Michaela's rebuke wafted over the intercom. "You heard him, Sam. Shut up."

Lennox chuckled, as Ironhide sighed, with no impatience. "Perhaps it is best that you accompany Sam, Miss."

Another pause, as Michaela wryly answered. "Bumblebee's already pulled up. We're on our way."

The Hangar loomed in the gloaming dark, like a cave, as Bumblebee gently halted, and flicked open a door to allow the humans to exit. Michaela had spent most of the ride with one hand draped over Sam's bent shoulders, and attempting to reassure his uncertainty. He was finally accepting that the loss of Optimus was not his fault, but he was still tense and uneasy about facing the Autobots again. Lennox had arrived only a few minutes before, and was warily scouting the waning light for any disturbances. He greeted the teens with a curt smile, and silently escorted them in.

Ironhide welcomed them, politely, wasting little time with the obligated pleasantries. Sparing the humans the long and incomprehensible explanations of the various scans, he simply announced, "I believe that the means to secure the return of Optimus is ours."

Silence, as the humans exchanged shocked glances. Lennox narrowed his eyes, cautiously.

"Ironhide, are you sure about this?" He gestured towards the teenagers, uneasily. "I mean, I don't think it's a good idea to get their hopes stirred up if we can't-"

"Captain Lennox." Ironhide's clipped, curt tone silenced him immediately. "I know that it seems like we are now entering the realm of the impossible, but I assure you, _we can."_

Sam swallowed hard, as Michaela lay a steadying hand over his. "Alright…what needs to be done?"

Ironhide paused, before he gently answered, "I believe the Tomb of the Primes has been located."

He held out a palm, and projected the image of the monolith in the air. Sam stiffened with a gasp.

"So….are we going to the rock pile, then?"

Ironhide shook his head, grimly, to their surprise. "There is a more pressing matter at hand. We do not know if the Matrix is concealed in the Tomb, or how to use it. And, if this is our chance, I don't want to alert the Decepticons by leading them to its whereabouts. With that in mind, I think a better course of action might-"

His words were interrupted by the shrill fracture of the whining sound, and then the shudder of the Hangar as something massive collided with its roof. The force of the blow rippled through the very air, as the Hangar's roof suddenly groaned, as the metal bowed from being struck.

The alarm system screamed in warning, and Michaela squealed in fear. Lennox stared in disbelief at the buckling roof, and blurted out, "What the hell was that?"

Ironhide grimly hoisted his cannon, as he turned to Bumblebee. "Protect them. And may we meet again, my friend."

Bumblebee chirped his assent, as he quickly shifted into his automobile form. Halting inches from Sam, he flung his doors open. Lennox scowled, and looked at Ironhide.

"I'll take care of the kids, but you better keep yourself safe."

Ironhide sighed. "You _will_ see me again, Captain Lennox. Bumblebee knows where to go. Trust him….and me."

Ironhide was gone before any of the humans could answer.

Bumblebee only lingered long enough to allow the humans to scramble into his seats, before he slammed his doors shut with finality, and shot forward in a blindingly fast dash through the Hangar's long corridors. The other Autobots had only seconds between the sudden chaos, and Ironhide's order to flee the attack. They emerged from the Hangar, flushed out like scared rabbits, and scattered. Ironhide only had a few moments to transmit the orders to divide and flee, along with the locations to seek haven.

Bumblebee shot through the Hangar's doors, and emerged through the firestorm. The sky itself was soaked in flames, the acrid smoke of burning, and fire falling around them was nothing less than hell. Michaela whimpered when she felt the ground quaking from the Decepticon's firebombs inches behind Bumblebee's frantic pace. The Autobot chirped with annoyance at a scorched bumper, but his engine roared, as he suddenly darted off the road and twisted erratically for the treeline.

From the charred sky, a shadow wafted in pursuit, as Starscream rolled his canons and snarled at his inability to hit the yellow Autobot. He sent a steady, pelting rain of cannon shot through the air, inches away from his target, but Bumblebee was too small, and fast to lock his scanner on. Wheeling, he rocketed towards the earth and the tree line. Bumblebee vanished into the dark green canopy, dodging the trees, and timing his twists to where he was least likely to be hit.

From above, Starscream hissed in frustration, as he rolled his cannons into place, preparing to scorch the trees to ash. If he couldn't find his target, he could simply burn the whole forest down.

Bumblebee scuttled backwards, crouching under a thick oak, as Starscream roared overhead, and circled like a waiting hawk. Another shot fell through the branches, as the pain splintered over Bumblebee. Sam felt the Autobot shutter from the hit, as Michaela gave a panicked glance to the dark sky. Lennox grimaced, hand sliding over to the door, as he opened his mouth to tell them to run like hell.

Starscream cackled, as he rolled downward into an arching dive, preparing to plummet and shower the trees with flame. He prepared another barrage, readied it to hurl, facial gears curling into a smirk. He saw the bright, betraying sliver of yellow through the green. It was only a matter of hoisting his cannons for the last target.

Bumblebee shot backwards in the desperate attempt to dodge the shot. Dirt showered upwards, smeared his bumper, and marred the cracked windshield. His tires squealed away from the rim of the gaping hole and the splintered, charred stump where the oak had stood. Fear rippled through him, as he swerved backwards, pivoted, and flew towards the center of the forest, as the trees fragmented behind him. Bumblebee skittered on the edge of the small ridge, circling hopelessly as the shots started hitting their target. Wounded, Bumblebee chirped in anguished decision, as he halted and flung his doors open. Sam squawked as Bumblebee disgorged them with a pop of his seats.

Before Sam could even scream, Bumblebee shot away in the savage attempt to draw Starscream's fire away from the defenseless humans. Lennox swallowed hard, as he bodily scooped Sam up, and sent them both tumbling over the ridge and into the undergrowth. Wrapping the flailing limbs against him, Lennox only snarled out, "If you go out there now, everything that Bumblebee and Optimus have done to save you is in vain."

Bumblebee's cyclonic path through the trees had slowed to a hurdling lurch. His sensors were flaring as they registered the damage, and he knew that he didn't have much more power to keep moving. His energon was leaking in a long, dribbling trail as he continued to dodge the cannons, and the falling trees.

Awareness rippled through him, as his sensors screamed in warning that he was locked on as a target. He heard the shrill whine of the missile, saw it slice the air in one swelling line of flame, as it arched towards him. He felt the scorching agony falling over his tires, as he squealed and pivoted. Starscream looped around, and dove downward for the last shot.

The shadow glided, darkened the sky, and loomed over Bumblebee, as he only winced in helpless waiting. Starscream was so close, that Bumblebee could hear his brittle cackle.

And suddenly, the world around Bumblebee exploded.

Starscream found himself enshrouded with light, and then, searing pain, as his left wing was severed from his torso, and he started the involuntary spiral downward. His energon was burbling out from the savage wound in his side. His damaged engine couldn't maintain the soaring height, and he scraped the air in the desperate roll to reduce some of the impact. A second shot from the earth flung him into the erratic, helpless plunge, ripping through his other wing. From far below, Ironhide retracted his cannons, trembling as he heard the vicious chaos of fracturing metal and exploding glass. Starscream fell like a swatted wasp, and collided with the forest floor with a scream as gears buckled, and flopped into an undignified heap. Ironhide sent another blistering shot in his direction, and did not wait to see if it was fatal. Starscream, if he lived, was too damaged to be a threat, and he had to find Bumblebee.

Fearfully, Ironhide lunged through the trees, frantic with anguish that he would find yet another one of his own dying in the trees. He heard Sam's bellow, and after the scramble over the ridge, saw the humans huddling around the wounded Autobot.

Sam was crouched beside Bumblebee, as Michaela and Lennox were eying the smoking, open hood. Bumblebee chirped a weak greeting to Ironhide as he hastily scanned the wounds, and attempted to convey whatever comfort he could. Helplessly, Lennox wiped his hands of the oil, and stared at Ironhide.

"How badly injured is he?"

Bumblebee chirped reassurance, and transformed into his more humanoid form, though more slowly than normal. He was quivering as he rose, but stooped to embrace Sam. Ironhide looked at Lennox for a long moment, and finally answered, "His injuries are slight, Major Lennox, if he can transform. And of that, I am so very glad."


	20. Acrid

The stench of burnt energon was a bitterly familiar scent, and yet, the acrid smell was something Ironhide could never get used to. These last few days had been soaked with it. In this case, the energon trace was that of an injured Decepticon. Ironhide inwardly sighed, and shook off the anguish. He still had to tend to Bumblebee, reassure the clearly fearful humans, see to the welfare of the scattered Auotobots..He only had time to send out the alert that all of them flee as far from the Hangar as they could, hide and await the next order. Adjusting his optic, he scowled as he stared at the smoking building that had disgorged all of them. Aside from the minimal damage to its roof, it was intact. He scowled. What good would it do them now? He felt sick, scraped raw and so very ill-equipped to deal with this new, cruel twist. Ironhide shuddered, rose and breathed. Later, he would attend to guarding the corpse of his friend and leader, and agonizing over all the things he could do nothing about. For now, his duty was to keep the Autobots and humans safe. Gently, he knelt down besides Bumblebee, who had Sam wrapped protectively crushed against his side. Bumblebee's transformation to his human form was lurching in a few of the gear shifts, and slower than what it usually was. But, aside from yet another dent-a new battle scar-Ironhide's scrutinizing bio-scan finally confirmed that Bumblebee was mercifully unharmed.

"What you did was very brave, my friend." Ironhide allowed the rare, warm smile, as Bumblebee ducked his head and waved away the praise with a self-effacing chirp. Sam was nearly in tears, as he whispered, fiercely, "Don't ever do something like that again, Bee! I can't lose you!"

Michaela's smile flickered uncertainly, as she stepped forward to Bumblebee, graced a palm over the scar that now adorned his protective wrist shield.

"Thank you." She said, softly, as Bumblebee only chirped and dipped his head towards her.

"Ironhide, is he alright?" Lennox asked, uneasily, as Ironhide grimly nodded.

"His wounds are superficial, Captain Lennox, and will not hinder him in any notable way."

Ironhide watched Sam and Michaela, still huddled together around Bumblebee and beckoned Lennox with his hand.

Lennox nodded, and stepped away to join Ironhide. He exhaled the long-held sigh, and jabbed a thumb towards the woods around them.

"What do we do now, Ironhide? We can't just sit here and wait for that thing to return to finish the job."

Ironhide grimly answered, "He will not be returning, if he survived the attack, Captain Lennox. And he will not be reporting back to Megatron."

Lennox raised skeptical eyebrows. "And you know this _how?"_

Ironhide stared at the sky, squinting in contemplation. "It's the nature of his attack."

"Huh?" Sam blinked at that, as Ironhide flung a hand to the trees. "That was a rogue attack, consisting of one of Megatron's top spies. I find it absurd to think that Megatron would risk sending a single fighter to obliterate the stronghold of his enemies. And, were Starscream merely scouting the area, he certainly would not announce his presence by firing a missile or giving chase. "

Lennox grit his teeth. "So….do they know we're here?"

Ironhide quietly snarled, "_Starscream _knows our location. I don't think he would be foolish to report to Megatron that he attacked against orders, and he crash-landed in the woods. Clearly, he's injured, if not dead. And at the moment, he is not a threat."

Lennox smirked at that. "Good. One down."

"Um….guys, I'd still feel a lot better if you just blasted the living crap out of him." Sam blurted. Lennox snorted and nodded in agreement.

Ironhide suddenly stiffened, and tilted his head. Bumblebee quietly chirped in alarm as he stooped to herd the humans close. Lennox watched Ironhide's minute scowl, as the Autobot unfurled both canons, rigidly peering into the green around them.

"Wait here."

The order was curtly flung over his shoulder as Ironhide's scowl deepened . Warily, he raised his eyes and sensors to the trees. His scanners were picking up traces of burnt energon, caught on the stray breeze and wafting erratically through the underbrush. Lennox was squinting at the trees, both of the teens shoved protectively behind his back. Ironhide only raised a finger joint to his mouth. Bumblebee twirled both cannons open, touched one to his helm in agreement and jabbed them upward.

Ironhide silently glided away into the trees, without even his shadow flickering, or a twig snapping. A few seconds later, his obsidian color rendered him nearly invisible in the gloaming shadows of the forest.

The wind had picked up, scattering a few leaves in the clearing. It would have been deceptively serene, were it not for the chaotic trail of splintered tree trunks that increased in number. Apparently, Starscream had plummeted from the sky, and rolled like a cannonball through the forest. The wood was charred, some of it reduced to little more than sticks, erratically jutting over the large swath of broken trees. Here and there, glittering like falling stars, or tears, were the shining bits of Starscream's metal, littering the trail. The pieces of the Decepticon were scattered, but there was nothing missing to suggest a fatal wound. Starscream was more than likely still alive.

Ironhide snarled at that, the savage realization nearly buckling his knees. Optimus, too, had left the same sort of trail. Laying a palm against his quivering helm, fingers curling in rare hatred, Ironhide forced himself to calm. His vents spewed the choked breath with tendrils of barely controlled rage. Ironhide's optics narrowed when he saw the sunlight splinter over the broken metal and gleam through the trees ahead.

Here, the splintered line of trees had looped around the small clearing, perversely bowed in a ring around the shattered sprawl of Starscream. The bright birdsong that had filled the air was now silent, and even the breeze had halted in horrible waiting. Trembling, Ironhide forced himself to walk the last steps over the small bluff, raising his cannons. The silence fractured under the futile scrape of Starscream's quavering lurch. He had managed to rise to his knees, and crawl a few quaking feet, before the collapse. While his limbs were intact, the wingblades were cleanly severed, and energon dribbled down his bowed, bent back. Heaving a grunt, Starscream fired the last of his working launchers in the attempt to at least rise off the ground. The flare was bright, and brief as it spluttered and died in a hacking, belching cloud.

Ironhide only watched, stricken with the images of Optimus's shattered wreck, only a few days ago. Something soul-deep clenched, hard as a fist, as Ironhide snarled in rage, and fired. It was animalistic instinct, feral, and liberating, as Ironhide relished the sharp squeal of both Starscream's voice, and writhing, damaged parts squirming away from the blinding pain.

It had been little more than a warning shot, scorching the back of Starscream's arm joint that he had flung to shield his optics. Ironhide waited for the hated moment of realization.

Starscream's cackle was brittle as it rose and shattered in the silence.

"Have you come to finish off what your fallen leader couldn't bring himself to do, Autobot?"

The question seared, even heaved out between choking breath and a chuckle.

Starscream cackled again, smirk widening when he saw himself staring upward at the cannon inches from his ravaged torso. His eyes slithered from the gleaming end of the cannon, and widened when he saw Ironhide's rigid, frozen rage.

Ironhide was silent, as he stared down at the fallen Decepticon, and fired. Starscream bellowed, and curled like a drowning worm from agony, as the energon slithered down the side of his face. Ironhide watched the writhing, numbly.

Rage warred in his gut, against the outcry of his normally peaceful nature, against the violation of torturing a defenseless, helpless being. Revenge clawed at his thoughts, as he stared, unseeing at the sprawled Decepticon, and nearly crumbled when all he could see was Optimus, dead, and bleeding.

"Please, don't kill me!" The entreaty was squealed as Starscream quaked under the weapon. Ironhide's breath choked against his gritted teeth, the cannon quivered with tortured uncertainty as he lowered the weapon a fraction of an inch.

"Why?" The question was strangled out in anguish, as Starscream's facial gears contorted in terror.

"You showed no mercy to him. Why should I show any to you?"

Starscream shut his eyes, exhaling. Ironhide recoiled at the cruel realization as Starscream gave his weapon a mocking glance, and then the smirk of hideous understanding.

"You don't have it in you to kill me." The challenge was spat and unmistakable, as Starscream eased himself upward with a wince.

Ironhide exhaled a patient breath, forcing his intellect and detachment to restrain the urge to simply obliterate the Decepticon. Starscream's smirk wilted into uncertainty when Ironhide quietly stepped back, with narrowed optics clearly contemplating. The silence and lack of an answer was unnerving.

"Killing you would be both futile and unnecessary, Decepticon. " Ironhide sneered over his cannon, as he shifted its mode from the wide arching aim to the narrow beam that could cleave joint from tendon without breaking the protective sheath.

Starscream wailed as the hideous light almost gently wafted over his quivering side, came to rest on the sensor. Ironhide smirked as the circuits curled inward and smoldered under the slow burn. The sensor whined, and shriveled as it melted into the charred, dripping liquid that embedded itself into the huge, blackened wound. Starscream whimpered brokenly as Ironhide swiveled the cannon to his good optic.

Starscream recoiled as the metal brushed against his optic, gentle as a caress, the promise gloaming in Ironhide's darkened optics.

"I have no qualms about eviscerating you with my laser until there's nothing left for Megatron but your sniveling pile of ash. I've already destroyed your tracking sensor, so the Decepticons don't know your location. And, even if they did….."

Ironhide's voice dropped to a low snarl, "They would not trouble themselves to save one of their own. Are you still interested in the sort of mercy I will be showing you, Decepticon?"

Starscream cringed against the cannon, trembling. Ironhide stared down at the broken wreck, curled and quivering, and waiting for the killshot. With a cry, Ironhide fired the laser over the broken wreck, halted at the main neural cord that controlled movement. Starscream lurched backwards, rocked with the force of the blast. His optics shot open, huge with terror and disbelief as Ironhide severed the mechanism that allowed movement. There was the strangled grunt as Starscream lay, wounded and paralyzed at his feet. His mandibles twitched, but stayed locked, grinding together as the whimper broke forth.

Ironhide stared at his helpless enemy, numbly. He knew that the severing of the neural cord was a superficial wound, easily fixed, and hardly permanent. It was pitiful compensation for the loss of Optimus. Ironhide felt the warring quell in his gut, and clench when he saw that sick, pleading stare of the defenseless thing below him. Trembling, he rose and strode away without a backwards glance towards the small ridge where he had left the humans and Bumblebee.

Starscream's shriek clawed at the air, and Lennox flinched at the sudden, sharp sound. Sam cringed against Michaela. Bumblebee chirped, questioningly, as Ironhide only shook his head in finality.

"I severed his tracking device. The rest of the Decepticons won't be able to track him here. However, that does not mean that it's safe."

"You let him _live?"_Lennox's biting question was spat as Ironhide recoiled at the accusation. With an almost unworldly patience, Ironhide knelt to look Lennox into his eyes, and nodded.

"Ironhide, what the hell-"

Ironhide's voice was quietly laced with anguished and tightly controlled anger, as he answered, "As you are a human, Captain Lennox, and therefore, unaware of Transformer physiology, I will overlook your ignorance on this issue. All of us-Decepticon, and Autobot, are equipped with sensors that only deactivate if we are offlined…or in human terms, dead. It would have only alerted Megatron to our location sooner."

Lennox noted the tremble that gripped the normally placid Autobot, and only nodded. "Sorry, Ironhide..I didn't know that sort of thing about you."

"It is alright, Captain Lennox." The dismissal was clear and Lennox wisely dropped the issue.

"So, what do we do now?" Michaela asked quietly, one hand still draped on Sam's shoulder, and the other leaning on Bumblebee.

Ironhide scowled at the answers that were already coming to mind for the question. "The Autobots will reconvene at a safer location. In the event of an actual attack, I think it wise that we all stay as close as possible."

Ironhide stared down at the humans and Bumblebee. They were so frail, so small in his shadow. Softly, he continued, "Understand, please, that I've come to accept you humans as friends, and allies, and would never willingly place any of you in danger. For that reason, I am asking you to obey me on this. Bumblebee, find a place that is safe for the humans, far away from Decepticon eyes, and do not let them leave. I will send word when it is safe for you to return."

Bumblebee chirped in disbelief, and Sam was already shouting his objections as Lennox quelled, and Michaela stared. Sam attempted to bolt like a scared rabbit. Two strides, and Ironhide gathered him up a gentle, but fiercely strong hand. Lennox was wide-eyed as Ironhide quietly pleaded,  
"Captain Lennox, they are only children. Surely you can't expect me to stand by and send them to their deaths?"

Bumblebee was already transforming, and looped around Sam to keep him from flying into the woods. Michaela stood, stricken and rooted to the ground.

Lennox surrendered to the edict. "I know, Ironhide, it's just-"

"It is never easy to make these decisions, Lennox. Will you guard them?"

"Wait, what-...you want _me_ to stay behind, too?"

"You are in command of the human military operations concerning the Autobots, Captain Lennox. And you are the only one who truly understands the nature of our existance. I trust that you will be able to aid us, when the time comes. That will only happen if you are left alive."

"This sucks, Ironhide...but I understand. You better keep yourself safe, alright?"

"I will do what I can, Captain, but my survival is of small concern when compared to saving lives."

A bitter smirk, as Lennox nodded, and looked away. "Mine, too, if it comes to that. Send word, then. As soon as you can, will you?"

"Of course, Captain. Keep the children-and yourself-safe, as well."

"Will do, Ironhide. Will do."

"Thank you."

It was agonizing for Bumblebee to feel Sam's fists and Michaela's bootheels against his windshield. It was horrific to lock the doors after Lennox slid into the front seat, grimly, and gave the Autobot a reassuring pat.

"I know it's not easy, Bumblebee, but he's right. We have to keep the kids safe."

A mournful chirp in agreement, as the locks slid into place. Bumblebee loathed serving as a cage, but he had no choice. And, after seeing the mournful stare of Ironhide into the distance that nobody else could see, he halted.

Gently, he nudged a bumper against Ironhide, chirping brightly. Ironhide gave him a rare smile.

"Farewell, Bumblebee, my friend. And, may Primus go with you."

Bumblebee flashed his lights, and shot away into the darkness. Ironhide watched the trail of headlights slither into oblivion and then dim into the shadows. He stared at the vancant woods and shivered, before turning relunctantly towards the Hangar. This last good-bye was only the beginning of the unpleasant and impossible things he had to do.


	21. Trapped!

Even the familiar walls of the Hangar offered no peace. Ironhide stared at the gleaming walls, awash with the harsh overhead lights, as he carefully scanned the place for any trace of anybody being there. The rest of the Autobots had fled the Hangar in the chaos of Starscream's attack, and found refuge either in stasis among the humans, or were still lurking around the wooded hillsides. Ironhide gave them all orders to stay where they were, and wait. Fanned out as they were, they were much more likely to evade another attack and be warned of any more Decepticon activity. They were safe, and aside from their newly awakened fear, they were unharmed. Ironhide had spent most of his time sending out patient reassurances to all that the Autobots were alive, well, whole, and would stay that way.

It almost sounded like a lie. Although none had spoken it aloud, the death of Optimus had shattered any frail illusion of safety. The Decepticons wouldn't allow them to live.

The knife's edge of indecision, again. Direct combat would only obliterate them faster, and leave the humans unprotected. As much as an afterthought the well-being of the humans should be, Ironhide also knew that his war had been foisted on their entire species without involvement or choice.

Starscream's rogue attack was only the trickling start of the dam breaking. Now, it was fracturing. Ironhide knew, with no unflinching certainty, that the ending was coming. He just prayed to Primus it would be a better one than the bleak one that tormented him now. There was little point in him lingering in the empty Hangar, now. All that remained of value here was Optimus's broken vessel.

He deserved so much more than the indignity of being sealed away on that barren slab in a human building. Ironhide ruefully stared at the doors to Optimus' resting place, and shook his head. Later, later, when the hell had stopped, and the threat was slack enough, he's see his friend's dignity restored.  
Until then, his remains were as safe as they could be. The walls were thick enough to withstand an attack. Moving him now would require extensive Autobot and human cordination. Ironhide also knew that the sight of a convoy hoisting the massive Autobot into the air would be hard to miss by their enemies.

It was yet another cruelty foisted upon his uncertain shoulders. But, keeping vigil over a corpse was pointless. And, if Optimus were to be brought back,it would be best if his body remained intact as much as possible.

Ironhide stared at the vacant walls again, still unwilling to leave. He mentally reviewed all that he had done in the last few hours, looking for any uncompleted task.

The surviving Autobots were all located, and in hiding. A few were close enough to the Hangar to warn of any Decepticon movement. Lennox, Sam and Michaela were now at the military compound, and on high alert. Bumblebee was staying with them.

Ironhide took a few moments to scan the last traces of all he had cobbled together. The location of the Tomb of the Primes, the grain of sand, the maps, everything.

And, after a moment of hesitation, he accessed the code that opened Optimus' tomb.

The shimmering metal walls unfurled like wings again, the tracklights on the soaring ceiling hummed to life, and washed the whole place with blinding brilliance.

Taking a steadying breath, Ironhide forced himself forward.

The harsh glare of the overhead lights served no purpose to to show the fatal wounds in all their brutality.

The gaping hole in his torso. The crushed helm, and the wilted eye socket. The mandible still twisted in agony, the limbs still contorted in the death thoes.  
The old stench of burnt energon that still filled this place.

It was still just as sickening now as it was when they had first lay him to rest, if this was what it was called. Perhaps the one mercy in all of this was that the corpses of Transformers, having no organic matter, or flesh, did not decay. Their honored dead, unlike the humans, did not join the dust of the earth. Ironhide had been curious about the human's almost callous haste in burying their dead at one time.

Ironhide had questioned Lennox about the macabre practice of rushing through the disposal of the corpse after a lavish ceremony. Grief took a lifetime to recover from, surely the humans were aware of this?

Lennox raised his arm, and tapped a finger over the crook. "Ironhide, we're meat, not machines. You know that meat rots, right? So do we."

Ironhide stared at him in barely disguised horror. "You...decay?"

Lennox just hitched his shoulders in answer. "Our bodies do, yeah. The meat part. The rest...I don't think that it just stays in the ground."

Ironhide smiled softly at that. "I agree with you, Captain."

The conversation had given him an odd bit of solace, as he stared down at Optimus's remains. Perhaps it was only his intellect's intent to make it bearable-labeling what lay before him as the body, and not his friend. But, the strange sense of detachment was enough as he gently picked up the clenched, coiled fingers and held them between his own.

He did not drop the hand in shock of how cold it had become.

"Old friend, I don't know if you can hear me now. I've tried to keep our loved ones safe. So far, we've lost none, and I have a feeling that we have you to thank for that. I only hope that when we each leave this world, our exits are far more kind than yours. May you rest, Optimus, until all are one. Farewell for now, and forgive me."

He lay the hand back down at Optimus's side, and rose, feeling at peace for the first time what seemed so very long.

The peace was shattered with the whining hiss that rippled through the air, and then the roaring clang as something huge slammed into the roof of the Hangar.

Ironhide felt the building tremble from its depths at the force of the hit, and froze when he heard the heavy, dull thuds of footsteps on the Hangar's roof.

His sensors flared in warning, as he stood, stunned and rigid. There was another blow that rippled through the very concrete. Ironhide hastily scanned the area, and shut the mechanism off before it could alert any Transformer to his presence.

Ironhide knew it was a horrible risk to take, as he accessed the information storage on their collective archives. With a bitter snarl, he punched in the deleting sequence that would obliterate all traces of his scans, the Primes, anything that could be used to identify the frail plan. It took only a second, maybe less, for the archives to be offlined and erased completely.

Ironhide heard another horrific thud on the roof, and he froze, breath hitching. Shuddering, he accessed the final code for the massive shutdown sequence. He shut his optics as he keyed in the final order. The doors of the glittering room slid shut silently, as he forced himself to glide backwards into the massive room that housed his friend's corpse. It took only a few more seconds for the dull hum of machinery to abruptly halt into silence.

The doors slid shut with finality, the sliver of light was severed as the shutdown was completed. And, then, the lights themselves went out, leaving Ironhide sealed in the tomb of Optimus.

The Hangar Doors,for a while, were able to withstand the barrage of missle fire, of being shot at with cannon blasts, showered with fire and blows.  
Ironhide flinched with each clang, each shout, each cackle as Megatron pummeled a fist against it. Apparently, Starscream had informed of them of the Hangar's location, and Ironhide had been horrifically wrong.

Primus forgive him for the mistake, even if he died rectifying it.

The rattling continued, and the groan of yielding metal was growing louder and louder, as the Decepticons kept hurling their weapons at the Hangar's entrance.

At least the rest of the Autobots were safe. Ironhide, in the fleeting time he had, had also deleted anything that the Decepticons could possibly use to glean information about the Matrix, or the Primes.

He had also severed any chance of the Decepticons tracking down the rest of the Autobots, even when it meant trapping himself in his own tomb, now. He could not call for help.

And with searing certainty, he knew that he would not, even if he had the choice.

Ironhide quickly entered the shutdown code into the little glowing panel, and shuddered inwardly when the entire place was swallowed in darkness.  
His optics automatically adjusted to the heavy abyss. Maybe the walls and his own cloaking device were enough to keep from being detected, if they did actually break into the Hangar.

His own words came back to him like a haunted ghost.

Dead Transformers gave off the stench of decaying Energon. It had been his reason for sparing Starscream. Now, he stood in the darkness, with a battered corpse that practically reeked of it.

There was the thundering crack of an explosion that sheered the air. The enormous Hangar doors, completely severed by the blast, rickocheted through the Hangar and collided with the walls. Ironhide silently unrolled his cannons, and crouched into the far corner. The Decepticons had breached the Hangar. 


	22. Evasive Actions

The Hangar doors groaned with finality, before buckling into shards and finally yielding to the blast of Decepticon fire. Megatron smirked at the loud clang of the metal that reverberated throughout the enormous place. Sighing with disgust, Megatron none too gently shoved one of his lackies forward, in case there were any Autobots. The little Decepticon squealed in terror, as Megatron simply plucked him high and flung him into the darkness. It would be both a distraction and a target. There was only the wailing shriek, the hollow clang and scramble as the little bot hit the floor and tried to evade oncoming fire.

Megatron scowled, puzzled at both the silence and the emptiness. His scanners detected no new trace of Autobots, though the stench of their energon still lingered, far too old for any recent activities. His scowl deepened as he irritably adjusted his optics to see through the abysmal darkness. He glared at the walls, seeing the dull sheen of metal. He sneered at the primative control panel that seemed to have been installed by the humans and then modified by the Autobots. He barked the order for his troops to scout the Hangar, and alert him to anything that would be of use. They fearfully crept foward.

There was the dark lines of the track lighting, the huge ceiling, the concrete floor, the various chambers that served as the private quarters for each Autobot. He snorted at that. His own underlings were never that weak, or pampered.

Clearly, this was where the Autobots called home, here on earth. Megatron had taken great care to conceal his whereabouts from the Autobots. With the loss of Optimus, the weak resistance, and their thinning numbers due his continual slaughter, he knew that the Autobots could not mount a defense. He simply planned on killing them at his leisure, in his own sweet time.

It would make far more sense for them to hunker down in this pitiful fortress, and lick their wounds, together. One gloriously disgusting farewell to the world.

So, where were they? His irritation grew to unease, as he pondered the question. He stared down at the controls, the huge dark metal contraption boxlike and adorned with the archaic handles and buttons of the humans. He scanned them for a trace of power, and was suprised to note that not only were all the circuits dead, but they had been abruptly shorted out, as if deliberately obliterated.

He frowned, noting the precise shot that had severed only the circuits that controlled the lights, and the mechanical doors. Grimacing, he knelt down, and ripped out a panel, indifferently fraying wires and holding the thing in his hand. He turned it over, optics narrowing.  
The wires had been cut so precisely, that even their rubber coating had no outward mark of damage. This was certainly not the work of any human, he knew they were too clumsy and stupid to even attempt to understand their own technology.

He raised a palm, and tried to scan the fragmented electronic records that may have been left on the system for information. As slow and infuriating as the Internet was, it was the most advanced thing that the human technology had to offer him.

Megatron was infuriated to note that not only was the system of records completely offlined, it had been obliterated, and beyond any means of salvaging. So, the Autobots had learned something that was valuable enough to not only abandon their Hangar, but to wipe out all information that could possibly be of use.

His optics narrowed dangerously when he heard the apologetic, timid scoutbot plead for a moment of his time.

"I hope the reason you are choosing to disrupt me is worth forfeiting your life if it is wasting my time. What is it?"

The bot shuddered in terror, almost too stricken to speak, as he cringed and choked out, "Sir, it's Starscream. I...we found him in the woods, sir."

Megatron's optics widened in surprise, as he snarled. "Was he alive and intact?"

The bot quaked into the nod. "Yes, sir. He seems to be injured, but he was alive."

Megatron drew a measured breath, as his mandibles twisted into a thin line. "Scan the parameter, and see if there's anything that can be of use to us. Alert me if anything is found, and kill any human or Autobot you may come across."

And then he turned his red optics to the quivering bot at his feet. "Take me to him."

The little bot scrambled into obedience as Megatron sighed, rolled both cannons into combat position, and strode out of the Hangar and into the forest.

The little bot scuttled ahead, darting through the undergrowth, wheeling past the path of broken trees, and glints of metal that littered the forest floor for a good half mile or so. Megatron paused, puzzled, as he stooped to scoop up a piece of it.

It was Starscream's. All of the fragmented metal was his, though it reeked with the afterburn of some Autobot's cannon fire.

And, seeing the scorched, wilted metal, it was from a very skilled shot from the earth.

The little bot abruptly halted at the ridge's edge, and then gestured. "Sir, he's down there. At the bottom."

Megatron's lips twisted into a feral, brittle smirk. "Well done. You are dismissed."

The little bot shot back through the undergrowth,towards the Hangar. Megatron stared down at the twisted metal. the sprawled form lay in the furrows of dirt where his wing edges had sliced the earth from the fall.

Starscream did not move, as Megatron's bitter laughter echoed down around him.

Through the haze of pain, he only noted the shift of soil as Megatron landed a few feet from his battered helm.

He did not trouble himself to recoil when he felt Megatron nudge his battered side with his foot, and then send him flying with a brutal blow. Starscream was hurled upward, and slammed back down into the dirt with a hiss and a grunt of pain.

There was only the groaned hiss, the creak of fractured joints as Starscream wearily cracked open an optic.

"If you kill me, you'll never know of the Autobot whereabouts, or what lays in the Hangar."

Megatron smirked down at him, his voice a low, dangerous purr.

"And were it not for your foolishness in flying out here against my orders, the Autobots would have never been alerted to our presence."

He puncuated his disgust with a clawed fist rending up Starscream's gaping wound on his wingjoint. His smirk deepened at the sharp squeal of pain, and the shudder, as Starscream pleaded, "Mercy! Mercy!"

The chokehold slackened, as Megatron allowed the wounded thing a moment to breathe.

"Since when were you ever worthy of any mercy, you sniveling firefly? Tell me what you have learned, and I may allow you to live."

A broken gasp, as Starscream recoiled from the pain. "The Hangar! I can take you to the Hangar where they-"

His breath was choked back into his throat as Megatron ground his fingers against his heaving neck joints. It wasn't possible to strangle Starscream-they had no dependency on oxygen like the fleshlings. But pressure against the neural cable behind the jaw bone was agonizing.

"The Hangar, you say? The Hangar?" Megatron barked, as he dangled Starscream in his fist.

"I have found the Hangar abandoned and all the Autobots scattered. Scattered, no doubt because of your stupidity in firing on them!"

He snarled as he twisted Starscream's neck, as the Decepticon screamed and clawed at the hand at his throat.

"They have the human boy!"

Megatron brought him inches from his face, under the full glare of his optics, and allowed his crushing grip to lessen.

Starscream was trembling as he continued the desperate spew in the pathetic attempt to save himself.

"The Autobots have the fleshling child, the one that Optimus died defending!"

"And where are they now?"

Starscream shuddered. "Bumblebee took the boy, along with the human's military contact to their compound! I saw them leave myself!"

Megatron flung him to the ground, and spat, "I'm only sparing you as long as you prove useful, insect."

He eyed him with disgust as he bent down and shoved the dislocated motion control back into place.

"Go back to the Hangar. If you fail me again, consider what I've already inflicted a mercy."

Starscream's offlined joints sluggishly ground themselves to life, as he slowly crawled upright and began the silent,seething lurch back to the Hangar.

Ironhide cowered in the darkness, rigid but flinching against the horrendous catophony . The Decepticons lumbered through the Hangar, ripped apart the control panels, blasted the walls and laughed in amusement. He had taken refuge along the far wall, wedged tightly between Prime's slab, and the corner. He had crouched down behind Optimus's corpse that he had no time to send back to its chamber.

With his obsidion color, and the Decepticon haste, he had the slim chance of escaping notice. It disgusted him to no end to be taking refuge behind his friend's corpse when the Decepticons were indifferently ravaging his family's home. Ironhide silently rolled his cannons into combat position, readied them to fire at the chamber door, all the while knowing that the walls were too thick to yield. All it would accomplish would be useless fireworks, and giving the Decepticons the chance to kill another Autobot and desecrate the remains.

Ironhide forced himself to wait in anguish. The Decepticons scraped the walls, fired at the panels, set a few harmless fires, and groused their hatred of Megatron who was obviously out of ear shot.

When he heard Megatron's bellow, he flinched, but did no more. The words were muffled, but the roar was loud enough to penetrate even the walls of the chamber.

"We've wasted enough time here. The Autobot Bumblebee has the human child. Find them and bring them to me-alive."

There was only the hasty assents and appropriate cowering as the Decepticons scattered. Ironhide only allowed himself to slump from shot nerves and terror after the last wheel had scraped away and there was nothing but the blessed quiet.

Ironhide did not know how long he stayed in the tomb, nearly sick with loathing and fear. He finally forced himself to rise, timidly tap out the access code, and gently send Optimus's body back into its resting place.

Lennox yawned tiredly, as he scrubbed a weary hand through his hair. They had arrived at the compound only a few hours before.  
Murshower was merciful enough to waive the usual protocal, so he and the kids were allowed entrance with minimal fuss. Sam and Michaela were draped under a blanket, perched together and asleep on the chairs they had shoved together. Lennox didn't have the heart to wake them, as he stared out into the darkness and wondered what the hell was happening.

Bumblebee had covered the distance, by racing well over 100 miles an hour without troubling himself to stick to paved roads.  
Lennox uneasily watched as the world flew by, knowing full well that if a cop did try to stop him, there was no way in hell he could drive fast enough over the rugged terrain,

The compound had finally crawled into view after the bone-jarring car ride and Bumblebee glided to a gentle stop, and chirped as he flicked open a door.

They had been rushed through, processed, approved, and left in the custody of Murshower himself.

Bumblebee opted to remain in his vehicle form, probably in the attempt to escape scrutiny. Most of the military were well aware of the Autobot's heroics, and were quite pleased to leave him alone.

Lennox's thoughts were interrupted by the sudden chirp of alarm from Bumblebee, as the Autobot halted inches from him, and transformed into his more humanoid form.

Bumblebee chirped louder, and frantically waved him over, as he raised a palm, and activated his transmitter.

"Bumblebee, what is it? Everything okay?"

"Captain Lennox?"

Ironhide's voice was faint, but welcome as Lennox answered, "Ironhide? What the hell is happening over at the Hangar? Are you alright?"

There was the guarded sigh and Lennox could almost see the Autobot's hesitation in answering.

"For the moment, I am well, Captain Lennox. I take it that you have all made it to the compound safely?"

"Yeah. We're all okay here. We're safe."

There was the weary, sad sigh as Ironhide finally replied, "I am afraid that you will not be safe for long, Captain Lennox. The Decepticons have ravaged the Hangar,and now, they are hunting for Sam. In the event that I am unable to join you first, I am sending Bumblebee the information that I have collected. I hope that it can be of use to you."


	23. Storm Warning

These Slender Threads-

Bumblebee lurched as the immense volume of information flooded his circuitry, and the images flickered through his overwhelmed senses. He chirped in irritation and Ironhide apologetically slowed down the transmission, much to Bumblebee's relief. Sam's eyes bulged as the transmission lit up Bee's neural system. Bumblebee only nudged him with his bumper, in reassurance that he was alright.

"Ironhide, do the Decepticons know where we are?" Lennox asked quietly, as Ironhide answered, softly, "If they do not know yet, it is only a matter of time, Captain Lennox. Your military capabilities are quite impressive for your species, but they are not capable of mounting a defense against a Decepticon attack. I have sent orders for the remaining Autobots to reconvene at your base,  
but I don't know if we will be able to do more than delay the end."

Lennox took a measured breath, as Sam twisted in the confines of Michaela's protective arms.

"Ironhide, what the hell do we do then? Just wait to die?"

Ironhide's voice was both kind, and tense, "Sam, I value the survival of your species just as much as my own. Waiting to die is not an acceptable outcome."

Sam put a palm to his forehead, and scrubbed it through his curls in aggitation. "Great, Ironhide. Just great! Now, do you have some plan on making sure that doesn't happen?"

"Sam, if I had the means of saving your kind and mine, do you sincerely believe I would withhold that from you?"

The question felt like a blow as Sam's temper melted abruptly into shame. "No, no. I know you wouldn't. But, seriously, do you have a plan?"

Lennox could hear the pained relunctance as Ironhide hesitated. "I do."

"So, what is it?"

"Sam, it is imperative that we find out to activate the Matrix, and the only way I see that being possible is to find out what the Seeker knows. Bumblebee, I have sent you his location, in case I do not return. I will go to the Seeker myself."

Bumblebee's shrill, irrate chirp startled them all, as his engine roared in protest.

Ironhide sighed with no impatience. "Bumblebee, it is not a matter of you lacking courage or ability. I know full well that you are capable of finding the Seeker. If the Decepticons do come to the human's compound before the rest of the Autobots, I would prefer you stay there to defend the humans."

Bumblebee gave a defeated chirp, as Lennox curtly shrugged. "I know this isn't easy on any of us, but we're still safer here."

Sam's lip was working in his teeth as he just shook his head. "Safe? Here? For how long? If they can kill Optimus, and destroy the Hangar, exactly what chance do we have?"

"So what do you have in mind, kid? Taking Bumblebee out for a suicide run to prove a point? Have you got a better idea?"

Sam's jaw clamped shut with a sigh. Lennox gave him a hard glare, and finally shrugged. "I thought not. Look, Sam, none of us are happy about this, but I'm not going to let you kids be killed."

Sam's eyes slid to his. "Ironhide, from what you're telling me, you don't even know if the Decepticons even know where I am yet.  
We're sitting on our butts with the fastest Autobot right here, and the location of where we need to go, right here. Can you tell me any logical reason why we can't go to the Seeker?"

Ironhide did not trouble himself to keep back the slowly festering anger as he answered, "Actually, I have several objections, Sam.  
We don't know if the Seeker can be revived, how to do it, or even if he would help, provided we could bring him out of stasis. And, if the Decepticons can kill Optimus, imagine what they could do to a fleshling child. I'm sorry, Sam, but I cannot allow that risk."

"No offense, Ironhide, but that's not your choice to make." Sam answered, eyes blazing at the speaker. Bumblebee chirped in agreement.

"You are right, Sam. It is not." There was a long, sad pause, before Ironhide relunctantly continued, "Perhaps your plan, if I understand it,  
has merit. You and Bumblebee plan to go to the Seeker yourself."

Sam swallowed hard, but nodded, scared, but resolute. "Yeah. And I'm leaving now."

Bumblebee chirped, as he transformed and flung open a door with a roar of his engine.

Ironhide's voice was remarkably calm as he finally answered, "You are not willing to wait for us to come and protect you?"

"I think it's safer for everybody if I leave before they notice I'm gone."

Ironhide's sigh was heavy and troubled as he finally spoke with sad acceptance.

"Make haste then, Sam. And stay safe."

Sam shut his eyes for a moment, as Michaela slid her arms around him. "I'm coming with you. Let's go."

She kissed away any of Sam's objections. Sam shuddered at the thought that it could be the last time.

She met his eyes, gave him a sad, troubled smirk, and Bumblebee chirped as his door flung open and he reved his engine pointedly.

Lennox gave Sam a level stare before he spoke, grimly. "Get the hell out of here, kid. We'll throw the welcoming party for the Decepticons and keep them busy. Just stay safe and find the damn Seeker, okay?"

The exit from the base had been as rapid as it had been unceremonious. Bumblebee's chirp, Lennox's parting words, and relunctant concern and the parting gifts of the military issued cell-phones. A promise to defend the base, and buy them time. Ironhide had been sparce, almost bitter in his hatred of Bumblebee and the human children being isolated and reduced to what he believed to be targets.

The words felt like rising acid, even as Sam snarled out that he was going. Bumblebee chirped bravely and flung open his door,  
like a human friend offering an embrace. Ironhide had dropped all argument, then, sensing it was futile, and worse yet, Sam was right. Sam hoped to God he was right. There had been too little time to think it over for long, when he was so damn scared that the Decepticons were already mounting their attack. And now, in these endless hours of what might very well be the last night of his life, he had nothing but time to think. The brutal murder of Optimus still burned bright in his memory.

Michaela was draped over Sam's shoulder, her dark hair spilling over her face in sleep. He kissed her beloved face gently, and was careful not to disturb her. His gut twisted at the thought of her..of any of them meeting the wrong end of the Decepticon cannon,  
their frail shot in hell odds...

Bumblebee had chirped a greeting, and halted in front of the air museum. Sam found himself staring dubiously at the marble steps,  
the dull gleam of alabaster in the grey morning. Michaela, roused from Bumblebee's gentle chirp, blinked herself awake and abruptly sat up.

Bumblebee chirped in warning, and Sam stiffened to hear the hiss of his transmitter.

"Bumblebee." Ironhide's troubled voice was suddenly spilling over the silence.

"Ironhide? What-" Sam was interrupted by Ironhide's curt words.

"Sam, the base is under attack. Do not return without the Seeker. It is not safe."

Bumblebee's chirp was agonized and shrill as Ironhide's shuddering breath came over the transmitter.

"There is nothing you can do for us now. Find the Seeker before we all-"

There was the sudden, horrible roar, the whine of blasts, and then the sickening hiss as the transmission was severed.

Ironhide was gone. " 


	24. Revenge

It should have felt less like a severing and more like a necessary departure. Ironhide had rationalized his departure from the Hangar as necessary. There was nothing there of value but Optimus's remains. As sad and as sick as it was, it was also the safest place for the remains, as well.

Later, later, when it was over, if any of them lived, he would either see Optimus, or see that his body was properly intombed.

Ironhide did not pause to ponder the very real possibility that 'later' may not exist. He had already lingered far past the point of being safe, relaying several messages to his fellow Autobots, and to Lennox, and to Sam.

He regretted transmitting the information to Bumblebee now. Ironhide had no idea that the human children would actually leave the safety of the military base, or that Bumblebee would be so foolish to accomodate that madness.

Ironhide's gears twisted as he channeled some of the helpless fury into his engines. He shot forward even faster, irritably dodging the much slower human drivers. In disgust at the traffic clogs, he simply veered off the road completely, ignored the human imposed speed limits and took off, full speed.

As long as he kept his scans regular, there was no threat to any collision with a human. Ironhide's transmitters were flooded with the erratic communication from the rest of the Autobots. The ones who lived were all heading towards the military base, all attempts at remaining hidden abandoned in their haste to head off the Decepticon attack.

Lennox, brave and frail as a human could be, had promised the fireworks of a military issued welcoming party. The base was on high alert, the air space cleared, the weapons readied. And now, the soldiers were tense and rigid as trapped animals preparing for the onslaught they knew they couldn't win.

Ironhide could only thank him for his help. He was at a loss of what else there was to say. Ironhide had been the last to leave the Hangar.  
There was no chance of him reaching the frail safety of the military base. Ironhide grimaced at the terrible realization that he was the only Autobot standing between the humans and the Decepticons.

So be it. Mayhaps it was for the best. Ironhide suddenly halted.

His sensors flared in warning at the sudden Decepticon trace. Ironhide's scan soon relayed the unwelcome news to the rest that the Decepticons were already spotted. Lennox relayed back that the first of the Autobots had already arrived at the base, mercifully ahead of the Decepticons. Ironhide only took the time to give him a curt thank you at the news. With barely controlled fury,  
Ironhide veered away from the human's faulty road, and deep into the thin treeline to the crumbling hillside. Quickly, he scanned the jutting rocks, and was pleased to see that it was flimsy and easily shattered under his cannon fire.

Ironhide transformed, and hastily crouched behind the small ridge that shielded him from view. Glaring skyward, he angled his cannons, and waited. He never troubled himself to track how long he spent in that sad, bitter vigil. All he knew was that he felt resolved,  
and oddly at peace with the finality of what would probably be his last act.

His sensors were flooded with their presence long before he heard them coming. Warily, he watched, sickened and enraged to see Megatron's hated shadow swell over the road in the wanning light of the sun. Limping along behind was the battered wreck of Starscream, whose crippled wings were trailing.

Ironhide narrowed his optics, scrutinizing the oddly festive cavalcade. True to his nature, Megatron had placed himself in the center,  
and shielded himself by being surrounded by his best fighters. Here and there, the timid scout bots scurried around, darting like rabbits over the terrain.

Megatron was making no attempt to conceal himself, but his fleet were rapidly approaching the Base, clearly expecting nothing but a one-sided fight, and an easy kill.

Silently, Ironhide waited with his usual deliberation and patience, as Megatron unknowingly came into range. Ironhide allowed himself a bitter smirk. And then, he fired.

The only warning they had was the sudden, blinding flare of light, the thundering roar of the air itself splitting. White heat, burnt energon, and the thunderous crack of the cliffside as it fragmented under Ironhide's blast. The rock shattered, as boulders and shards flew skyward and rained down on the cowering Decepticons. Megatron bellowed in outraged pain and shock at the unexpected attack.

It had been a calculated, carefully planned shot. Ironhide knew that firing on that frail and easily shattered rock face would be like throwing knives into the air.

Ironhide readied his second shot, and hastily circled around as much as the trees would conceal his presence. When he was nearly flanking them, he fired again, this time splaying his cannons wide. His right shot carved deeper into the cliff side, sending down another avalanche of shards that bit down like teeth into the Decepticon that took the brunt of the rock.  
His left shot rippled through the cluster of Decepticons, and he was gratified to hear Starscream's shriek and Megatron shouting unheeded orders. His fleet, held together by fear, and little else, had scattered in the chaos, in terror. Starscream lay, sprawled, wretched and ignored by Megatron. And Megatron was glowering at the dripping energon that was slowly dribbling from the wound to his side, clearly in pain.

The Decepticons, blindsided by both the speed and the ferocity of the attack, were fleeing, as Megatron snarled and Starscream cringed.

"Find that Autobot, and kill him immediately!"

Ironhide crouched down behind the ridge, hesitated a moment, and silently transformed to his vehicle form. Bracing himself, with a quick prayer, and a shaking breath, he flung himself high, fell harder and was off at full speed. He made no attempt to cloak his movement, or hide, as he rocketed away from both the bewildered Decepticons and the military base.

The rock ridge jutted from the earth like a spine, but provided a sliver of shelter from the fire storm that errupted in his wake.

He only had a few precious minute's head start before the Decepticons regrouped, and absolutely no possibility of survival except speed. He shot back towards the Hangar, veered away from the ridge and plunged through the trees. True, it slowed him down , but it also offered a bit of protection from an attack from the air.

Megatron's blast hissed through the trees as they splintered. Ironhide dodged the onslaught with a sharp twist, but caught the edge of flame.

His only warning of the second shot was the flare from his sensors and then the agonizing shock of being hefted skyward from the force of the blast

Starsceam cackled as he continued the barrage of blind fire.

Ironhide rose high, fell harder and rolled, before he clawed himself to a halt. Numbly, he forced himself to rise, and quickly scanned to see how injured he was. His joints were crippled from the energon loss, and his neural system that allowed movement had been damaged. His wounds were not life-threatening,  
but if left unattended, would leave him unable to move at all.

It was an agonizing choice...to cower down in the futile hope that he could escape detection, or open fire and possibly kill a few Decepticons before he perished.


	25. Revived

"Ironhide? Ironhide?"

Sam recoiled in horror at the roar of missle fire booming through the speaker, of chaos and then, nothing. The transmission was severed, and faltered into the static whine before going dead. Sam stared with huge eyes as the intercom as Michaela curled him to her side.  
Bumblebee wailed beneath them, and shuddered.

"Bee, can you get back the signal?" Sam asked numbly, as Bumblebee chirped, shrill and wounded. The signal was beyond ressurection on Ironhide's end. There was nothing to get back.

"It sounded like a war zone." Michaela whispered hoarsely. Twisting around, she turned to Sam, eyes shimmering. "We need to get going before they find us."

Sam shook his head, numbly. "Are you crazy? We have to go back! We can't just leave them to die like-"

"Sam." Michaela silenced him with a hand on his face. "We can't do anything to help them but what Ironhide asked us to do, okay?"

He met her searing eyes, and she whispered, soft with understanding. "I know, Sam. I know. But if we go back, we're trashing their one chance to live. Is that what you want to do?"

Bumblebee abruptly snarled beneath them, and bucked his seats. Sam and Michaela heard the sharp click of car doors locking, of seatbelts slithering forward, and the low growl of warning from the engine before Bumblebee shot forward.

Sam yelped in surprise to find himself hurdled backwards in the car seat.

"Bee? What the hell are you doing?"

Michaela hitched her shoulders as she ran a hand over the dashboard. "He's doing what we should have been doing all along, Sam. Taking us to the Seeker."

Time and speed. Bumblebee needed both, but he was already out of one, and failing to achieve the other. His wounded joints groaned in protest as he diverted the flow of energon from the non-essential-lights, radio, air conditioning- to his engine. He winced in pain as he forced his gears forward, and shot off, neither knowing or caring what the humans thought. He wished to Primus he could speak. He wished to Primus that he could tell Sam he was sorry, explain that Ironhide knew what he was doing and that going back to the battle would have been nothing less than suicide. Was Sam blind to the fact that Bumblebee had heard the horrible roar of the cannon blast? That it was his comerads and family who could be dying now?

Time and speed. He had little of one left, and the other was almost gone.

Bumblebee found himself skittering away from the last thing he called home with two human children. His neural sensors could detect the humans' fear. Sam's rigid tremble, his fingers dug like claws into Bumblebee's seat. Michaela's hitching breath as she tried to force that wanning smile.

Bumblebee chirped bright reassurance as he continued his erratic hurdle towards the museam. The Seeker's trace was old and faint as distant starlight. Were it not for Ironhide's foresight in uploading all the information, it would have been missed. Bumblebee had wasted no time time in questioning orders, worrying about the futility of the whole plan, or even what was to be done once he found the Seeker. There simply wasn't time.

He remembered that the Seeker's trace had been as sharp as a cannon blast when he finally rolled into the empty streets. He forced himself to slow, wary of attracting unwanted attention.

"Bee? Where are we going?" Sam's question was the only sound as Bumblebee focused on the signal. At the Base, it had been almost non-existant. Now, the stench of old energon and the Seeker's trace felt close enough to touch.

Here. It was here! Bumblebee chirped loud, and flung open his doors, the demand to exit to clear. Dubiously, the humans exchanged glances, as Michaela emerged first. Sam soon flanked her, staring wide-eyed at the air museum. After taking a moment to ensure that the humans were at a safe distance, Bumblebee transformed.

It was slow, halting, and painful. Sam watched warily as Bumblebee slid his gears into place, the wheels slowly disappearing under the malestrom of shifting parts.

It had taken longer, but it was finally finished. Starscream's cannon blasts had left his wounds mercifully small.

Chirping in demand, Bumblebee gestured the humans to follow, as he scanned the area for any enemies. Bumblebee paused to stare at the dark gleam of the glass doors, and stared at his battered reflection. Peering over one shoulder to make sure that the humans were clear, Bumblebee knotted his digits into a fist, and then plunged it through the door. The glass crumbled to shards, and left glittering chaos over the concrete.

The humans trailed behing, clutching each other and clearly afraid, as Bumblebee strode into the massive air museam. He tilted his optics skyward, and stared, disbelieving at the old war planes and military machines that hung suspended, forever frozen in time. It was strange to think that the human's entire history of flight was so brief that it could be lodged in one building.

Bumblebee pivoted sharply, and did not turn to hear the human footsteps stop behind him. He chirped loudly for attention. Michaela stared, disbelieving at the obsidion war plane, that gleamed dully in the skylight.

"This is the Seeker?" Michaela asked doubtfully. Sam hitched a shoulder as he edged closer, and finally tapped a wing blade. The metal clanged lifelessly.

"Hello? Hey!" Sam tapped the wing more forcefully. Uncertainly, he turned back to Bumblebee. "What do we do, Bee?"

Bumblebee said nothing, but only stepped forward, palm extended, as his wrist gears shifted to reveal the piece of Shard.

Flickers of awareness. Bright fragments of memory, light and life suddenly being poured back into the battered shell that still remained in stasis. Awareness flickered, as the Shard arched high, cut deep, and sent the shockwave of life through the ancient gears. Life trickled down through Jetfire's systems, slithered across his old cables, ghosted in his engine, and reverberated back to his optics.

Sensations came roaring back. The familiar cold tile beneath his wheels. The glare of halogen lights, the hum of electricity on the powerlines outside. Blue sky shimmering down on his optics from the overhead skylight.

Jetfire shuddered with the disorientation and the shock, as his various systems lurched painfully back into functioning. His stasis had been broken. He was awake, just as the Primes predicted.

His wheels scuttered across the floor, as Bumblebee shot backwards and shielded the humans. His ancient parts, already ravaged by time, and disuse, finally groaned into obedience as he instinctively transformed from the Blackbird to the Autobot.

Jetfire heard a human female shriek in terror, followed by the snatches of words. Bewildered, his optics flared red as he finally righted himself.

"It's a Decepticon! Look at its wing!"

Shrieking fleshling children. "Fleshlings." He snarled in irritation as he continued his lurching attempts to force his joints into obedience.

He heard a sharp, metalic chirp, and the familiar sound of an Autobot cannon being rolled into combat position. Jetfire tottered forward, cursing his age and his limited mobility as he flared his wings backwards, in the futile hope that they would see he meant them no harm. The small, yellow Autobot chirped in warning as he shoved the humans behind, shielding them with his own frail body.

Jetfire squinted at that, as he languidly shook off the aftermath of the long stasis.

"I'll have you know that I'm no Decepticon!" Jetfire's voice was gruff from being filtered through so many old vents, but it was still intelligble. The humans paled.

Jetfire sighed. Human diplomacy was never a skill he had aquired, and he was woefully inadequate at communicating. "I'll have you know that I mean you no harm."

The human female glanced at the human male, and stepped forward. "Hey."

Jetfire stared at her dubiously.


End file.
